


Kindred

by CarlyWrites



Series: Natasha and Wanda [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Agoraphobia, Amputee Wanda Maximoff, Anxiety Attacks, Auntie Nat, Avengers Family, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Awesome Wanda Maximoff, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Burns, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton's Farm, Deaf Clint Barton, Depression, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Gen, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Injury, Injury Recovery, Kid Wanda Maximoff, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Missions Gone Wrong, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov-centric, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV Natasha Romanov, POV Wanda Maximoff, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Pyrophobia, Recovery, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Separation Anxiety, Series, Single Parents, Social Anxiety, Telepathic Wanda Maximoff, Therapist Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Wanda Maximoff & Peter Parker Friendship, Wanda Maximoff Has Abandonment Issues, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, not Bucky Friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 203,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23709973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarlyWrites/pseuds/CarlyWrites
Summary: Part 4 of the Natasha and Wanda series!Over the past two years, Natasha and Wanda have gone to hell and back. Finally adopted, Wanda will hopefully begin to develop a sense of security, while Natasha moves towards finally accepting herself as human. However, the past is never far behind. The two face trials and tribulations that will put themselves, and their relationship, to the test. How will the mother daughter duo fair against these ghosts?*This story will not make sense without reading Parts 1-3*Not CACW compliant
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Cooper Barton & Lila Barton & Natasha Romanov, Cooper Barton & Lila Barton & Nathaniel Pietro Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Cooper Barton & Natasha Romanov, Laura Barton & Natasha Romanov, Lila Barton & Natasha Romanov, Lila Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanov & Avengers Team, Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Nathaniel Pietro Barton & Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts & Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Avengers Team, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Peter Parker, Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov, Yelena Belova & Wanda Maximoff
Series: Natasha and Wanda [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615924
Comments: 1225
Kudos: 597





	1. Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger warning for violence and dark thoughts***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday release date as promised! This series has been a labor of love! Thank you all for your amazing comments and following along. Originally, this fic was supposed to end after Lost, but your support has inspired me to add more! A special shout out to my frequent commentators, your comments have inspired so much of this story and have pushed me through some rough bouts of writer's block! Please enjoy!!  
> As always, feedback and welcome and appreciated!

I watch in horror as Secretary Ross saunters forward. The knife in his hand glints under the single fluorescent bulb that buzzes overhead. It is the only source light in the dank cement basement. Natasha’s head hang limply, her arms and legs bound to a steel chair. From this angle, I can see her back dripping, crimson rivers running from the lashes. Ross smiles at me over his shoulder before turning back to her, the knife moving quickly.  
“No!” I yelp, trying to rush forward. Electricity courses through me and I fall to the ground. My body convulses, and despite my desperate clawing, the collar remains in place. The Doctor steps forward, clucking in disappointment.  
“You never learn, do you?”  
“I killed you, I know I killed you,” I mean to sound strong, angry, but instead my voice is a whimper.  
“You can’t kill Hydra, you silly girl.” He lifts me up by the straitjacket, my arms bound. “This is your fault, witch, all of it.” Ross cuts away her bloody tank top, then proceeds to dig the knife into the fading scar that the Winter Soldier left her. Even though the pain must be excruciating, she doesn’t react. She doesn’t even have the strength to lift her head. Ross gives the knife one final twist before pulling it out. Blood pours from the wound like a spigot. He cuts the bonds on her wrists and ankles, but she makes no move to flee.  
“Run! Please, you can escape!” I plead.  
Ross pulls her up by her blood-soaked hair. Her eyes meet mine, begging for me to end it. The blade reappears, going towards her neck.  
“No! Please don’t, please! Take me instead!” With a fluid motion, the knife drags across her throat and she crumbles unceremoniously to the ground. I try to pull my arms away from my sides, “Let me go! I can save her! Let me go!” I thrash, trying to pull away. “You can’t kill her!” I cry.  
“We didn’t. You did.” They reply in unison.  
“No!” I scream, watching the blood pool around her head. Natasha’s once bright green eyes are dull and faded, staring blankly at me. “No!” My heart shatters.  
“Little Witch,” a voice whispers, “It’s okay, you’re okay.”  
“No! They killed her, it’s all my fault,” I thrash, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to free myself from the contraption.  
When I open my eyes and look down, I see it is a pair of arms constraining me, not a straitjacket.  
“Wanda, it’s okay,” the soothing voice continues.  
“No!” I writhe, shrieking,  
“You’re safe, we’re in the apartment. In your bedroom. Everything is okay.” I turn my head, seeing my consoler’s face. Her bright red hair fails over her shoulder, tickling my nose.   
“Nat?”  
“Right here, and you’re okay. Everything is okay.”  
“No, they killed you,” I feel tears begin to flow down my face. “This isn’t real.”  
“Look around, we are in your room,” I shake my head, “Tell me five things you see.”  
“The closet, my desk,” I reply cautiously.  
“Keep going, Little Witch.”  
“The window, my TV,” I tilt my head back, “Stars.” The glow in the dark stars that Natasha and I stuck onto the ceiling when we moved in. It felt so real, it couldn’t have been fake. I have trouble getting in air.  
“Deep breaths, Wanda. You’re doing a good job,” she soothes, brushing my hair away from my face, “Now four things you can feel,”  
“My t-shirt,” I pull the sleeves over my hands, “the sheets, my sweat.” I lean back, my anxiety beginning to shrink, “You.”  
“Three things you can hear?” For a moment, all I can hear are my own thoughts, pushing doubt. Deep breaths.  
“The air conditioning, traffic, your heartbeat.”  
“Two things you can smell,”  
“Laundry detergent, lotion.”  
“One thing you can taste?”  
“Blood,” I murmur. My cheeks are raw. She presses a glass of water into my hands. I take it and swish. After I spit back into the glass, Natasha gently lays me onto my side, rubbing my back. Each breath I take shutters as I recover from my sobbing. She rubs my back rhythmically. I begin to fall asleep, only to be startled awake by my body jolting.  
“It’s okay, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” she soothes. Finally, I drift off once more.

In the morning, I roll over and Natasha is gone. Most likely, she is at the meeting I was supposed to go to. The one we fought about last night when we got home from Paris. I am honestly surprised she didn’t force me to go. I reach for my leg and slide it on, heading into the bathroom. I quickly wash my face and go to the kitchen. In the fridge, there is a protein shake and an iced coffee waiting for me. Natasha has the week written out on the counter. Tomorrow, Wednesday, is the first day of my senior year. Thursday, after school, is physical therapy with Chad. We are down to every other week. Friday evening, we are flying out to California for Pepper’s bachelorette party. After finishing my protein shake, I head into the library with my coffee to work on my Korean.  
After two hours, and very little progress, I hear the door to the apartment unlock. Natasha’s keys jingle as she hangs them up and I step out of the library.  
“Wanda, I’m home,” she calls out. Her voice is clear and steady, so different than a month ago where she could barely speak above a whisper. “How was your morning?”  
“Good, worked on the books you left me,” she nods, placing groceries on the counter. I begin to help put them away, waiting for her to bring up any of the topics I am trying to avoid.  
“How are you doing?”  
“Fine,” I slam the cabinet a little harder than necessary.  
“Last night was rough, you haven’t had one that bad in a while,” she says softly.  
“I am fine,” I reiterate, putting the milk in the fridge.  
“Then I should have made you come to the meeting today,” Two for two in under five minutes; that must be a new record. I go to leave the kitchen but hesitate, feeling bad.  
“Thank you for last night,” I blurt out, my ears getting hot. I rush out of the kitchen, not wanting to talk about it anymore.  
Later that afternoon, she pulls me out of my room and to the gym for training. My endurance is steadily increasing. One hour in and I am yet to take a break. I stretch my back.  
Natasha hovers beside me anxiously, pacing. She runs her fingers across the scar on her neck, a habit she picked up months ago. However, with the scar recently reopened, it seems to irritate it. I try not to think of my nightmare, watching her throat being slit once again. I train my attention on the task at hand.  
“Just don’t push yourself,”  
“Nat,” I groan.  
“We already did two miles today; don’t you think box jumps are pushing it a little too far?” I know she is also thinking of last night.  
“I know what my body can handle,” She snorts, and I shoot her a glare. Before we can argue in more, I crouch and jump. I teeter dangerously on the edge of the box, but with a quick pulse from my powers, I manage to balance. It is only my second time trying the blade, and I think Natasha is on the verge of a heart attack. We are also both fighting jetlag from our ten days in France, splitting our time between the Riviera and Paris. I had nicknamed it our “gotcha-moon”.  
“You should have been there this morning,” she adds. I pinch my lips in irritation, I thought this conversation was over. As I jump off the box, I wince internally at the land, pain shooting up my leg. But I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of being right.  
“I didn’t want to be there,” I grit my teeth.  
“There are lots of things that I don’t want to do, and I still do them.”  
_That’s because you don’t have a choice._ The words almost slipped out, but I held my tongue. Sam and I have been working on my temper, it isn’t going as well as either of us have hoped. “You should have been part of the conversation, it is your education.”  
“I will be there tomorrow, first day of school like everyone else.”   
“Wanda,” she sighs, “I am trying to avoid a repeat of what you went through during finals. This is about making sure you are comfortable,”  
“I don’t want to talk about it,”  
“We have to. There will be days when your leg hurts and you have to use your wheelchair,”  
“No, there won’t be.” I cross my arms. “And I think I proved today that I can participate in gym or any other school related activity.” I head over to the weights, “I am fine.”  
“Do you want to go over your schedule tomorrow? Your morning classes are all on the first floor and,”  
“I can do stairs!” I drop the dumbbells and they clatter loudly. Combine with this and the box jumps, our downstairs neighbor must be hating us. Though I would never have admitted it, the stairs were a concern. With only two minutes between classes, I don’t know if I could get up and down in time between every period. “You don’t have to baby me. I’m almost eighteen,” I sniff, crossing my arms.  
“It will go well tomorrow, I know it,” She smiles encouragingly. I am not nearly as good at hiding my emotions from her as I think I am. My bravado begins to break down.  
“As long as there’s no lightning, loud noises, crowds, no one pisses me off, and there’s no shellfish. Great,” My frustration starts to build. Deep breaths.  
You will be okay, you’re an Avenger,” her lips quirk into a small smile. She pulls me up off the bench, “You do, however, stink. Go take a shower and we can grab dinner.”  
We sit at our favorite Italian restaurant at a table on the roof. I tear into a piece of Italian bread, dipping it in the oil and vinegar.  
“You really could just keep homeschooling me. I did fine last year, I have a 3.95 GPA. And you’re smarter than any of the teachers at school.”  
“I am not homeschooling you, no matter how much you stroke my ego,” She teases lightly, “You should be having the fundamental American experience. Football games, homecoming, senior trip, prom. You could even join a sport,”  
“I am pretty sure I would be barred from competing.” I flicker some red between my fingers.  
“Student council?” I sigh. “What about the guitar in your room at the compound?”  
“I don’t actually know how to play,” I blush furiously, “I found it in storage, and it reminded me of my dad.” I play with the edge of my cloth napkin, “I think being an Avenger is enough of an extracurricular. I’m sure colleges have never seen that one before.”  
“We never did get to finish our tour in Boston, maybe we can go back Columbus Day weekend.”  
“If it means we can stop talking about my impending future and just read the menu, yes.” We order our food and the sun starts to set. The string lights above us flicker on.  
“I was talking to Clint and Tony about maybe doing a ski trip for Christmas this year. Head out to Aspen. What do you think?”  
“Sounds fun, did you ask Steve?”  
“No. Not yet.” She stabs at her chicken.  
“Are you guys okay?” There was an unspoken tension brewing between the two of them. After the Fourth, they wouldn’t even look at each other. But then Natasha almost died on the mission and things seemed to go back to normal. The day of my adoption proved otherwise. Steve almost missed the hearing, and they both actively avoided each other at the party.  
“We had a disagreement, that’s all.”  
“What about?”  
“He said something that he shouldn’t have. Then he made it worse when I got out of the hospital. Can we please stop talking about this?” Her face is getting flushed. To anyone else, it may look like she had too much red wine, but I know better. I have upset her, a lot if the emotions are playing out on her face.  
“What should I wear tomorrow?” I ask lightly, trying to save the dinner.  
“I really like the black dress you bought.” She offers, attempting to do the same.  
“With my white leather sneakers?”  
“It will match your backpack perfectly,”  
“You’re officially back on Avenger’s duty tomorrow.”  
“Yes, I’ll be on call. But they won’t reach out unless it’s an emergency.”  
“Isn’t every call an emergency?” I ask lightly, twirling my pasta.  
“I want to make sure you’re settled in, just for the first few days.” She takes a sip of her wine. “Now, the real important questions is: How are you going to do your hair?”

* * *

Half my hair falls gently against my back as the other half is twisted into a bun on top of my head. After lacing up the same sneakers I wore to the adoption hearing, I grab my white leather Prada backpack. Last minute, I slide on the worn red leather jacket, supple and soft from repeated use.  
I head into the kitchen and see Natasha. On the island, she has a breakfast of pancakes and fresh berries laid out.  
“Happy first day of senior year,” She places a mug of coffee down as well.  
“Thank you,” I grab a strawberry, popping it into my mouth.  
“What’s on the docket for today?”  
“You have my schedule memorized,” I tease, cutting into the pancakes, “But Peter and I compared schedules last night. We have history together again.”  
“That’s good, do you have classes with any of your other friends?” she begins polishing her favorite gun, switching between her roles seamlessly.  
“I don’t have any other friends,” I take a sip of the creamy coffee, avoiding eye contact.  
“What about MJ and Ned?”  
“They are Peter’s friends, not mine.”  
“I can guarantee they would disagree,” She takes my empty plate and empties my coffee into a to-go cup. “Go brush your teeth, I’ll walk you down to the lobby,” As a leave the kitchen she call after me, “And it is almost ninety, I think it’s too warm for the leather jacket,” I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to force myself to take off the coat. “Wanda, come on! You are going to be late,” I pull it off reluctantly, hanging it back up in my closet. “You look beautiful, a senior in high school,” She pushes my hair over my shoulders. After taking countless photos, I am finally allowed to head down to the lobby. Albert opens the door and the new valet hands me the keys to my car. I admire the deep red car for a moment, thrilled that I will be able to drive it.  
“Bye Nat,” I shoot her a smile.  
“Have a good day, text me if you need anything. I’ll be in the city. Don’t forget your seatbelt,”  
“Go save the world,” I grin. The valet gets the door for me and I step inside, the air conditioner blasting.  
“Use your blinker!” Nat calls as I drive away from the curb. I make a show of turning on my directional and heading off to school.  
I pull onto school property and head to the senior parking. I find my spot easily. It is in the front row, something I have no doubt was Nat’s doing. The day before Nat and I left for Paris, Peter and I painted my spot, a senior privilege. It is based on a group photo of the Avengers that will be on the cover of Life Magazine next month. There is a knocking on my driver’s side window. I jump, nearly spilling my coffee, and climb out of the car.  
“Jesus Peter, you gave me a heart attack.”  
“Sorry,” he smiles sheepishly. “Welcome back,”  
“Thanks you too. Happy junior year,” He rolls his eyes. We used to be the same height, but in the past few months, Peter hit a growth spurt, now at least four or five inches taller than me.  
“You know, Mr. Stark and I were actually talking about me graduating early. MIT is,”  
“Peter, Wanda!” Ned and Betty rush over. Soon the crowd gets thicker and we make our way inside. There are students pressed all around me. I resist the urge to throw up a forcefield. _Do you see her leg? You think she’d at least try to cover it up. How can the Avengers keep her around like that? Why would they want a cripple?_  
“Wanda,” Someone touches my arm. I flinch and see Peter staring at me, his mouth turned down in concern.  
“Sorry, not used to so many people. Lots of thoughts, hard to filter,” my accent slips for the first time in months.  
“Should we call Nat?” I force myself to stand up straighter, pushing my shoulders back.  
“No. I’m fine. It just took a second to adjust,” I lie, “I’ll see you at lunch, okay?”  
I hurry down the hall to my first class, AP Literature, hiding in the back of the room. Someone sits down in the seat next to me. I look up, surprised. MJ pulls a notebook and pencil out of her backpack.  
“Peter put you up to this?”  
“No.” she flips open to the first page. “I do exist outside of Peter’s orbit.”  
“That isn’t what I meant,” I say quickly. Great job making friends, Maximoff.  
“It’s fine.” She smiles at me and hands over the syllabus that is being passed around. My stomach drops upon reading the theme for the first unit. _Peace and War: an examination of power, loss, survival, and heroism._ I think I am going to be sick. I don’t want to read about this, I lived it. Copies of the first book of the year are passed back. MJ looks over at me and back down at our books, a critically acclaimed novel that is supposed to be an amazing piece of modern literature. This is one of the worst possible ways I can think of starting my senior year.  
It gets worse.  
I flee the cafeteria within seconds of entering. It is loud, both inside my head and out. Kids are jeering and yelling, happy to see their friends after a long summer. They shove up against me and I can hear their thoughts. _Why didn’t she wear pants? Shame about the leg, she was pretty hot before. You know I heard a rumor that she isn’t even an Avenger anymore, but can you blame them?_  
I sit on the floor of an empty classroom, trying to stop my hands from glowing red. This is a spectacular failure, as they begin to glow brighter. I rip my rings off, throwing them across the room. The door opens and I jump up quickly, splaying awkwardly on my leg.  
“Hey, it’s just me,” Peter smiles and walks in cautiously. “Are you with me?” I nod, my back pressed up against the wall. He is probably thinking about my meltdown on the Fourth of July, when the fireworks backfired. Peter looks at my rings, scattered across the floor and gathers them up. “Do you know what day it is?” I nod again.  
“I don’t know what is wrong with me.” I whisper. I ball up my fists trying to quench the red. “I used to be able to filter it all out.”  
“You’re just getting back into the swing of things. It must be a lot, coming back.” He steps forward, taking my hands, despite their glow and pressing the rings into them. “You’re going to be okay. You’re the toughest person I know,” he grins, “But don’t tell Nat or Cap, wouldn’t want to offend them,” I shove the rings into my backpack. “Come on, we got a picnic table outside. It is a lot quieter,”  
“Thank you, Peter.” I smile tentatively.  
“We’re a team. You don’t have to do this alone.” Peter chats the whole way to our spot outside where his friends are gathered. The world looks a little brighter than it did before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up in a few days! Please check out the prequel to this series, Volition (What happened in Budapest was just posted!!)! There will be a lot of interaction between the fics later one, much like Lost and Welcome home.  
> Thank you and I hope you enjoyed!


	2. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of Kindred! Thank you all for your comments on the first chapter!! So happy to have you all with me for part 4 of the series! I cannot believe how far it has come!! Please enjoy! As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!!

When Wanda’s car is out of sight, I head down into the garage and climb into my Porsche. The car purrs to life and pulls smoothly up from the underground parking. The drive to Stark Tower take longer than I would have liked with weekday traffic. I turn on the radio. A top forty radio station blares, and I have a feeling it was Wanda’s doing. Though I do not know when she was in here. I make a mental note to ask her about it later.  
I park the car and take the elevator up to the penthouse. The modern interior is not exactly warm and welcoming, but it was my home for a three years. Though that seem like a lifetime ago now.  
“Natalie! Good, you made it,” I roll my eyes at the name. He will never let that go. “Come on, we have things to do,” I head into the kitchen, the opposite direction that Tony is going, to pour myself a cup of coffee.  
“You asked me to be here by eight o’clock, the least you can do is give me coffee.” He taps his foot impatiently and I follow him.  
“Do you even need coffee?”  
“Why do you care?” I take a sip.  
“So, you do it for the ritual then? Drinking coffee in the morning,”  
“What is with everyone psychoanalyzing me lately? Can’t I just drink some coffee?” I feel myself bristle.  
“Fine, fine. Whatever your want. Anyway, I brought you here for something actually important.” We step into his lab and I see rolls of fabric and a mannequin.  
“Trying out for _Project Runway_?”  
“Very funny, I’m sure Barton would have loved that one,” Clint’s love of reality TV competitions is no secret to the team. “No, I asked you to come over to help me with the designs for Little Red’s new uniform.” I look closer at the rolls of fabric and see that they are actually military grade materials. Reinforced Kevlar, ripstop, and similar fabrics, many in varying shades of red.  
“Did you have these specially made?”  
“Of course. She needs a proper uniform. No more running around in your leather jacket and leggings,” He begins to show me his plans.  
“She is not wearing a corset, Tony. She is seventeen,” I glare at him.  
“Not like that, Jesus. Just makes it easier if there is an injury, this fabric can’t be cut.”  
“Then put in a zipper.” I swipe on the hologram, the laces disappear. It looks more like a workout top. “And add thumb holes,” I swipe again, extending the sleeves on her shirt to cover her hands.  
“Won’t that muffle her powers?” I shake my head. I think of how she is always pulling her sleeves over her hands. It is a comfort to her, even though it does nothing to actually stop the red pulses and tendrils. To have them covered at least partially will give her a sense of control.   
“It will protect her palms if she falls,” I lie. He shrugs, going along with it. I have no critique for the plain black pants. Next up is an overcoat. It is reminiscent of my leather jacket that she loves in the same color as the undershirt. “Did you come up with these designs yourself?”  
“Pepper helped a bit,” he swipes onto the shoes, “Okay, a lot.” I look at the knee-high leather boots with Kevlar ankles to allow for more movement.  
“As much as I love these, and I think she would too, I’m pretty sure she is going to be wearing a blade on missions.”  
“Okay, then we will adjust the heel for the left one when she comes to try all this on,” Tony swipes up, sending the uniform for production. “God, I wish I could get a chance to look at the Winter Soldier’s arm,” My mouth goes dry. “If I could learn how it works, I could make one for Wanda. He helped Cap before, you think he could help us out?”  
“No,” I shake my head, “You don’t want him here. You don’t want him anywhere near us.”  
“Well that makes it sound like you know the guy, more than being shot by him twice would indicate. Care to share with the class?”  
“Fuck off, Tony.” My voice shakes despite my best efforts.  
“Natasha,”  
“I should go. In case the school calls and I’m not home,”  
“You don’t have a landline.” he argues. “I’m sorry, I won’t bring him up again. Okay?” I nod, my heart pounding in my ears. “Can I get you a cup of chamomile? That’s what you drink, right?”  
“I’m fine. Just show me what else you’ve got.” I take a sip of the now cold coffee. He hands me two small switchblades. “Thanks, but I’ve already got a Swiss army knife.”  
“Oh come on Red, you know me better than that. Hold them in your hands and flick your wrists,” He backs away quickly and a smile bursts across my face when I perform the action. Thin, electric batons fold out, locking in place. They crackle, pulsing with a blue charge. When I click a button on the side, they power down and collapse once more. “I made them with some of the leftover vibranium from Ultron. As much as I love the whole samurai look you have going wearing the ones you have now on your back, they aren’t exactly subtle. These aren’t as strong, but they’ll work in a pinch.”  
“Thanks,” I play with them a few more times, getting used to the weight in my hand. “Next team training session, I am definitely giving these a go.”  
“Speaking of teams,”  
“You’re about to say something that is going to piss me off. And I highly recommend that you don’t do it.” I put my new toy back down on the workstation.  
“Our fearless leader is missing his partner.”  
“I am on call right now. I hardly call that missing.”  
“You haven’t gone to the compound in a month.”  
“I’ve been busy. Did he seriously ask you to talk to me?”  
“No, he asked me to check in, see how you’re doing. He seems pretty broken up,”  
“He’s fine.” I pick up my car keys. “It was good to see you. Wanda and I will be here Friday to meet up with Maria. Can she do the fitting for her new uniform then?”  
“Yes, but Natasha,”  
“Goodbye, Tony.”

After doing the grocery shopping, getting the tires rotated on my car, and doing thirty miles on the treadmill, it is barely one o’clock. That leaves two hours until Wanda comes home. I head back into the gym after downing my protein shake. It was once three bedrooms, but I had the walls torn down, turning it into a suitable place to train. My fists collide with the punching bag, and I don’t even bother wrapping them. The apartment is three thousand square feet and I still feel closed in. Like the walls are collapsing. My fists fly faster and faster. I stop when I feel my knuckles split.  
I don’t know what is wrong with me, why I can’t spend a day home alone. I am a master of spending time alone. If I have an objective, a purpose. Right now, all I can do is wait for someone to tell me that I might be needed. Waiting isn’t purposeful. I can’t even practice my marksmanship.  
The first week we moved in, the building manager nervously informed me that I was not allowed to fire my guns in the building. Not after our downstairs neighbor, who insists on being called _Ms._ Bisset, complained. Apparently is scared her cats. But I itch to feel the weight of a gun in my hand. I haven’t been on a mission since the last weapons recovery.  
The case of throwing stars that Wanda bought me for my birthday is heavy in my hand. I set up the target. Though it isn’t much of a challenge at this distance, the sound of the weapons slicing through the air is calming.  
I take a shower and wipe the steam from the bathroom mirror. I begin to work a comb through my tangled hair. I had sworn to never let it grow long again.  
But I remember Wanda after Brazil. She was so fixated on this idea that I had long hair, out of all things that were different between the world she created and this one. She kept on asking why I cut it, that she liked it better long. So, I let it grow.   
_I feel the tug of my braid as I tried to wrench free, the panic that began to overwhelm me._  
The comb drops from my hand, clattering against the sink. The sound jolts me out of my thoughts. Wanda will be home soon; I can’t be lost in my head right now. Finally, as I change into fresh clothes, it is nearly three o’clock. I hear the front door open and the sound of a heavy bookbag being dropped on the floor. There is no call of greeting, announcing she is home. I head into hall, only for her bedroom door to slam shut.  
“Wanda?” I knock quietly.  
“Go away,” a muffled cry rings out. My heart clenches.  
“Can I please come in?” I try the door, but it glows red, stopping me from opening. I sit on the ground, leaning against the door jam. “I’ll wait right here until you’re ready, okay?” There is no response, but I don’t expect one. I take out my phone and begin working on my Amharic. Though I should be perfecting my Bengali.  
An hour later, the door starts to glow red once more, swinging open. The shades are drawn, sending the room into shadows. Wanda lays in bed, her back to me, facing the windows. However, she rolls over when I enter. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, her neck blotchy. I lie down next to her and she sobs into my shoulder. Her fists clutch my t-shirt, and she looks up at me. Her lips are parted as she gasps for air and slightly stained with blood. I imagine the inside of her cheeks have been chewed raw.  
“I don’t want to go back. Please don’t make me,”  
“What happened?” I brush her hair away from her face, sticky with dried tears. The crown braid has most come undone, her hair hanging limply around her head.  
“It was so loud,” she murmurs, “All their thoughts. I couldn’t stop them. It was like everyone in the room was yelling at me. I tried to stop it, Nat, I tried really hard,” She tells me as though I need convincing, as if I thought she would put herself through this on purpose. “And then there was English class. And then lunch. I couldn’t even get through lunch. I used to be able to sit in the cafeteria just fine. Today, it was a nightmare.”  
“Wanda,”  
“And then in gym,” she starts crying again, “They wanted to do something fun this week before we start physical fitness tests.” her lip trembles, “Guess what I discovered I can’t do today? The rock-climbing wall. I fell flat on my back in front of two hundred people! They didn’t even bother,”  
“Wait, you fell?” I interrupt her, looking down at her leg. “Why didn’t you call me? Did you go to the nurse? She is supposed to call me if you go to her,”  
“Because the only thing hurt was my pride,” Oh to be a dramatic teenage girl. But my concern for her residual limb persists.  
“Please let me look at your leg,” She obliges, rolling down the sock, and I am relieved to see that besides the normal swelling form a long day, it is fine.  
“After I fell, they didn’t even bother just thinking everything. I heard them in the locker-room.”  
“Whatever they said, it isn’t true,”  
“Why did you have to make me go to school? Why are you doing this to me? You should hear the things people think when they look at me!”  
“They are ignorant, Wanda,”  
“No, they are right!” Her eyes flash red for a moment and I can see the emotional pain morphing into anger.  
“Okay, take a deep breath. We can work something out, okay?” I climb off the bed. She sits up, her mouth pinched.  
“We can’t! You can’t fix everything, Natasha! Some things can’t be fixed, can’t be saved!” She screeches, and the drawers from her dresser come flying out, hitting the opposite wall. The wood splinters and the drywall cracks. Her clothes litter the floor.  
“You’re okay, everything is okay,”  
“I am a danger to everyone around me,” Her eyes flit from the broken furniture, to me, and then her hands.  
“That isn’t true, you have much better control than you had a year, two years, ago.”  
“I’m trying so hard,” she sounds broken, defeated. “It feels like it’s pointless.”  
“Sometimes, when we look at ourselves, its hard to see the progress we’ve made. Our perspectives can be skewed.” I think of her swollen leg from running around school all day and hand her the crutches, pulling her off the bed. “Come on, we’re going to have some tea.”  
She follows me reluctantly to the kitchen, taking her usual place at the island while I put two mugs in the microwave.  
“I probably don’t say this enough, but I’m really proud of you,” I am gifted a small smile in return. “Now, tell me about the good. There must have been something good that came out of today,” I turn around, grabbing tea and honey from the cabinet next to the stove.  
“I hung out with Peter and his friends at lunch, by the picnic tables,” I don’t comment how she says _his_ friends, I have to pick my battles. She wrings her hands, and they start to become red in a new way. The microwave beeps and I place the warm mug into them, stopping her. “I didn’t have an explosion of powers resulting in the death of my classmates,”  
“I know you’re joking, but I definitely count that as a win,” I tease and pull open the drawer holding our collection of takeout menus. “What are you feeling tonight? American? French? Mexican? We can travel the world,” I drop the menus in front of her and she flips through the pamphlets. “Your teachers gave you all your work for the semester, right?” She nods in response, handing me back the menu for the salad place that delivers.  
Wanda’s usual chatting in nonexistent during dinner. I have been told by other members of the team that she is quiet and reserved when I’m not around, though I couldn’t really see it until now. Normally, I have trouble getting her to stop talking.  
“Will you give it a few more weeks for me? If things are still just as bad, at let’s say Thanksgiving, I’ll start homeschooling you again. Okay?”  
“Okay, thank you.” She picks at her salad. “I’m going to get started on the assignments that are due next week and go to bed.”  
“Oh, no you don’t,” I stop her. She turns around, surprised. “Are any of those assignments due tomorrow?”  
“No,” she admits reluctantly.  
“Then tonight, you are going to sit on the couch with me and watch some bad TV. We can even call Clint and watch _TMZ_ with him and Lyla,”  
“You hate _TMZ_ ,”  
“Yes, I do. But I would even subject myself to that archaic form of torture,” She tries not to smile as she settles into the couch. “Also, Friday you are getting a uniform,”  
“For what?” she rolls the sock off her leg and starts to rub it, though it is obvious she making an effort not to look at her leg.  
“For what? What do you think? Your Avenger’s uniform.” Her mouth forms a surprised little ‘o’.  
“Really?”  
“Yes, Tony and I finished designing it today. You’re going to be back in the field soon, we want to be ready.” I settle onto the couch beside her. She clicks on the TV and winces when the first thing we see is her face. It is a selfie she posted on Instagram this morning, commemorating her first day of senior year. She quickly changes the channel to another station, the laugh track from a comedy fills the room. “That was a really pretty picture of you,”  
“Yeah, I guess.” She pulls a blanket over her leg. I mute the TV.  
“What’s going on? You were happy a minute ago.”  
“I’m hideous,”  
“What?” I laugh, “Wanda you are not, you’re gorgeous. I tell you that all the time.”  
“You’re my mom, you have to think that,” she pouts.  
“Where is this coming from?”  
“At school, I heard people thinking it. They think I’m ugly now, and that I should be wearing pants, covering this up,” she gestures to her leg, hidden under the throw.  
“They’re very wrong,”  
“No they aren’t! I have to look at this thing every day. They don’t even have to see the scar and they think the same thing! Nat, you’ve seen the scar. It is gross.”  
“It is not gross,” My voice comes out sharp, “Don’t say that. It is a sign of your survival, of life. That is the farthest thing from gross I can think of. It is proof of your strength, your resilience.”  
“That is hypocritical coming from you,” she retorts. I clench my jaw, grinding my teeth. She is lashing out.  
“I accept my scar. It took me a while. There are some other things behind it that were hard for me to comes to terms with. But I did. The only reason I ever try to hide it now is to protect other people from the pain it brings them. It is a part of me. Just as much as everything else.”  
“I don’t want it,” she pulls off the blanket and I see the scar wrapping across the bottom of the stump and up the sides, like a piece of packing tape. There are other scars too, from the skin grafts that didn’t quite go right, even with Dr. Cho’s technology. It is a massive effort to save even this much of her leg. Not that she ever needs to know that. I can see the fight draining out of her, the exhaustion from the day starting to win.  
“You don’t have to want it. But it isn’t ugly, it’s a part of you. And there is nothing ugly about you, Little Witch. Inside and out, you are beautiful.”  
“Thank you,” She moves closer to me on the couch, resting her head on my shoulder. I go to unmute the TV but pause.  
“And nice caption on the photo, ‘Back to Hogwarts for this witch’, very clever. I’m sure everyone was all over that,” She laughs. It is a real laugh, the one I have worked all summer to hear more frequently. One that went silent in March. Instead of watching TV, she begins to tell me about the good parts of her day with newfound energy. About the group project that they are doing in history. How she and Peter had a competition at lunch to see who could catch more pieces of popcorn in their mouth. It was a tie, but she insists the if she had used her powers, like Peter was, she would have won. I listen to the little details of her day, like the new song she heard on the radio on her way home. Her animated expressions and glowing smile take away my anxieties from the day. We are going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter!! I should have the next chapter of Volition out by Friday and hopefully chapter 3 of Kindred by Sunday! Sorry for the slower posting schedule, things have been absolutely crazy for me!  
> Thank you for reading along!!


	3. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling inspired and wrote this way ahead of schedule!! Thank you all for following along! Lots of fluff!! Enjoy!  
> *I also wrote this in like an hour, sorry for any errors!

“Why can’t you let me have them?” I beg as we step into the elevator with our duffel bags. “Don’t you want me to fit in at school?”  
“I want you to learn how to control your powers. And I really don’t think you are in the position to be asking me for things right now.”  
I cross my arms and huff in annoyance. “They are just colored contacts!”  
“You stole my car,”  
“Borrowed,”  
“Without permission, for the sake of a joyride. You are lucky I’ve only taken your car away for a week,”  
“But,”  
“Wanda, I do not want to fight with you this weekend,” she warns. I had only wanted to see what was so great about driving her car, and I knew if I asked, she would have never allowed it. And I would have gotten away with it if I hadn’t forgotten to turn off the radio. It doesn’t even drive better than my car, if anything, mine has a smoother ride. The valet puts our bags in the trunk of the Spyder and I sit in the passenger seat. “I understand you wanting to try and hide your eyes with colored contacts, but I don’t want you to become dependent on them to try to fit in. It would be better, healthier, for you to learn to control your powers again.”  
“You didn’t have someone think that you were possessed by the devil during math class,”  
“You’re being fitted for your uniform today,” she reminds me as we pull up to the tower, trying to divert my attention. Regretfully, it works. It lifts my spirits slightly, but they are quickly dashed when we see Tony.  
“Sorry, uniform isn’t arriving until Monday, you can come over after school, okay?” I nod, trying not to let my disappointment show. “And we are carpooling, or I guess it would be jet-pooling,”  
“What?” Natasha’s jaw twitches.  
“Well you are heading to Malibu and my bachelor party is in LA. We got to all do our part to save the planet, Red.”  
I cannot figure out why Natasha is so bothered by the idea until I see Bruce and Steve exit the elevator. Rhodey and Sam step in from the landing pad, while Maria appears talking into her cellphone, usual tablet in hand. Vision phases through the floor and my heart leaps with joy.  
“Viz!”  
“Hello Wanda,”  
“I didn’t know you would be coming,”  
“Mr. Stark invited me for his Bachelor Weekend. I am happy to see you,”  
“Come on people, we should get going. We have dinner reservations at eight,” Maria calls. Vision and I board the jet first. Natasha tries to pull me to sit next to her, her eyes darting nervously to Steve who is not far behind.  
“I am not sacrificing time with my boyfriend so you can avoid yours,” I hiss, still irritated by her denying me colored contacts. I wrench my arm away from her grasp and take a seat next to Vision. She should work out her problems anyway. However, much to my surprise, Steve doesn’t take his usual place next to Natasha on the plane, instead he sits beside Sam, leaving Maria pissed off, and settling in beside Nat. It is like they are the ones in high school.  
Vision spends most of the flight explaining to me his study of nuclear physics with Bruce, who I imagine is doing the same with Tony, Rhodey, and Happy. Though I don’t recall seeing Happy in the tower before the flight.  
My five hours with Vision is not enough. I kiss him quickly at the private airport before we part. He morphs from his usual appearance to be blonde hair and blue eyed.   
“I will come and visit you before you head home.” He caresses my cheek gently before following after the rest of the guys.  
I climb into the town car with Maria and Nat. Maria is checking our dinner reservation at Pepper’s favorite restaurant while Natasha is on the phone with Clint and the contractors at his house, arguing that they are overcharging him. I slump in my seat, and then Nat nudges me, mouth for me to sit up straight. She quickly returns to rattling off statistics and building codes to a man named Frank who doesn’t stand a chance. Finally, as we get closer to the house, the two hang up their phones.  
“So, what are we doing this weekend?” I think of the bachelorette parties I have seen on TV and in movies. Penis cakes and strippers, wild nights with drugs and alcohol.  
“We’re going to dinner tonight and then a private screening of a new indie film Pepper wants to see. Tomorrow we’re having a spa day, then Sunday a chef is coming to cook us brunch on the beach.” Maria rattles off, she was in charge of planning.  
“That’s it? Nothing wild? We aren’t going to secretly go to Vegas or get matching tattoos?” Natasha, though still mad at me for the incident on the plane, laughs.  
“Maria and I are spies; we can’t exactly have tattoos. Scars are already hard enough to hide. And you’re not old enough for a tattoo.”  
We pull up to Stark’s Malibu home. The last time I was here, Natasha had a traumatic brain injury. My eyes start to burn with tears thinking about it.  
“Hey, you okay?” She comes up behind me, silent as a cat.  
“Yeah, sorry. Just um,”  
“The last time you were here?” I nod. She squeezes my hand sympathetically and we walk towards Pepper who is waving at us from the front steps.  
“Hi, welcome,” she beams. “I am so happy you guys are here,” I can’t help but notice we are the only ones here. Out of all of us, I figured Pepper would be the most likely to have friends outside of the Avengers. Instead, we sit down in the large living room, just the four of us. Pepper breaks out a bottle of wine, and even I am allowed a glass. As Natasha becomes more animated, not hiding outside or lingering in the background, I am thankful for our small circle. The female Avengers.  
By the time we get back from dinner and the movie, it is one o’clock in the morning, but with the time change it feels like four. We all stumble to bed, grateful for a chance to sleep in.  
That is not the case though, because at nine o’clock, Natasha is calling us down to get going. She is the only one not still bleary with sleep as we chance into loungewear and grab our swimsuits. Like a mom before school, she presents us with coffees and bagged breakfasts. At nine thirty, the car pulls up to take us to the spa.  
“How are you not exhausted?” Maria groans.  
“I slept four hours, which is plenty,” Natasha types into her phone, probably talking with Clint about the contractors again. They are in a rush to get the addition finished before Baby Girl Barton joins the family. “I got my workout in before I even woke you three up,” she teases, throwing her phone into her purse.  
“So, do you think they’ll give me half off my pedicure?” Maria chokes on her coffee. No one else says anything, “It was a joke. I’m just pulling your leg, but don’t pull back. Mine will come right off,” Natasha rolls her eyes, but a smile makes its way onto her face for the first time this morning.  
The car drops us off at the spa, which has been completely rented for the day. In the dressing room, we change into white robes. The three of them sip mimosas and I a cup of tea while we wait to be called for our first treatment of the day, a massage. I look around the waiting room in awe. The walls are a rough and raw stone, and the ceiling sparkles with lights imitating the night sky. In the center is a small pool to put your feet in while you wait. The walls are flanked by daybeds and chaise lounges. Staff stands off to the side in crisp white uniforms, ready to be beckoned at a moment’s notice. The room smells faintly of eucalyptus.  
“Is this your first time going to a spa?” Pepper asks. I nod, playing with the tie on my robe. “It is a lot of fun. I came here with Natasha when she was Natalie,” Pepper divulges, “Of course, we didn’t rent out the place like this. The Avengers weren’t a thing yet, so we still had anonymity.” Pepper gets called for her massage first, followed by Maria. Nat sips her drink, the flute hanging elegantly in her hand. Despite the relaxed demeanor, it seems obvious to me that it is an act. Her eyes move around the room to quickly, inspecting the face of each employee that comes in and out of the room. I want to tell her that Maria hired security so we could relax, that we are safe. But she already knows that. I get called next and flash Nat a nervous smile.  
“It is great, don’t worry, just relax.” I follow the woman into a small room, lying down on a bed. Ninety minutes later, my back muscles are loose and free for the first time. I hadn’t even known I was carrying that much tension. My hands lit up at one point, scarring my masseuse to the point that I needed a new one, but other than that, it was wonderful.  
Pepper and Maria are sitting on a crescent shaped sofa and beckon me over to them. They slip me a glass of champagne with a cheeky smile.  
“Pep, did Nat tell you that Wanda stole her car?” The strawberry blonde gasps in surprise.  
“I borrowed it,” I argue.  
“You didn’t,” Pepper shakes her head in disbelief.  
“I don’t understand what the big deal is. It’s just a car,” I remember then that it was a birthday gift from Pepper for Natasha’s 27th. “Not that it isn’t a great car, it is an awesome present,”  
“That car is basically the reason she was able to be an agent again at SHIELD,”  
“What does that mean?” I frown. How can a car do that? Maria’s face pales and Pepper looks away.  
“I just assumed that you,”  
“Hi Nat,” Pepper greets, cutting her off. “How was your massage?”  
“Perfect, definitely ready for the hot tub and a pedicure.” After our pedicures, we end up by the pool, changed into our swimsuits. A man makes woodfired pizza to order in an outdoor oven. Natasha swims laps while we eat lunch. As I watch her swim, I think of the Fourth of July, when she dove into the water. I thought she had been under too long, that maybe when she jumped off the diving board, she broke her neck. Vision assured me she was fine, Sure enough, moments later, she emerged from the water, her face more serene than I had seen it in weeks. Natasha finally joins us, but the oven has been shut off, the remaining pizza gone cold. Nevertheless, she steals a slice of mine and sits down in her seat, still dripping with from the saltwater pool.  
“So, Maria. You and Sam,” she wiggles her eyebrows.  
“It just kind of happened,” Maria shrugs.  
“Just kind of happened, that is ridiculous. I want all the details,” Pepper scolds playfully.  
“We were undercover in Afghanistan together a few months back and it all just happened. “I like his company.” She takes a sip of her cucumber water, “Now who we should be talking about is Pepper,” Final details for the wedding are revealed, which is in three weeks. Pepper talks about the small ceremony, only fifty people are invited to the celebration. Tony has a surprise for her, which makes her nervous. We have all been told the story about the fifty foot bunny.  
The day is capped off with manicures and facials. I have never felt so pampered in my life. I feel so little stress and tension that it seems unnatural. Like my body forgot what it felt like to not be ready for a fight.  
“This was absolutely amazing,” I tell them as we settle into the car. Twelve hours of spa treatments.  
“Better than your strippers and penis cakes?” Natasha jeers. Pepper bursts out laughing, having missed that conversation previously.  
“I didn’t know what to expect,” I defend, though I find myself laughing as well. Back at the house, a game of Cards Against Humanity breaks out and I see an entirely new side to Pepper that I didn’t think existed. Natasha even lets me have a few more glasses of champagne. I feel effervescent. A smile holds on my face as we chat and play.  
“Bit of a lightweight, huh?” Maria looks through her cards, placing one in the center of the table.  
“This isn’t going to be a regular thing,” Natasha assures everyone in the room, most pointedly me. Besides drinking the same amount as Maria and Pepper, she is painfully sober.  
“Who knew Black Widow would be such a strict mom,”  
“Oh I knew,” Pepper assures us, “As soon as she started working as my assistant. The way she could dress down some of the board members with just a look. It is a talent,” Natasha pours herself another glass. The game ends with Pepper as the winner, and we soon settle into a comfortable silence, listening to the sound of waves crashing against the cliff. Maria dozes off on the couch, and Nat gently shakes her awake. She nods, rubbing her eyes and heading up stairs. Pepper gets up as well.  
“Come on, Little Witch, time for bed,” I try, and fail, to suppress a yawn.  
“I’m sorry, Nat,” I lean heavily on the handrail until we reach the top of the stairs.   
“For the car,” She opens up the bedroom door to my room.  
“I know you are,” she murmurs. I sit on the side of the bed and pull of my leg.  
“Will you stay in here tonight?” My eyelids are heavy. “Nightmares were bad last night,” I lie down, and she joins me.  
“I’ll be right here if you need me,” she promises.

* * *

In the morning, there is a knock at the door, a half hour before the chef is supposed to arrive. We look over from our place in the living room, each with a cup of coffee. Before FRIDAY can announce who it is, Vision phases through. I jump over the couch in excitement, stumbling slightly on the slick floors.  
“Hi Viz,” I look up at him, breathless with excitement.  
“Hello,” he smiles at me and then turns to the rest of the room, “I hope you have all had a wonderful weekend.”  
“We have Vision, thank you,” Pepper replies kindly.  
“I am sorry to intrude, but is it okay if I borrow Miss Wanda?” I look to Nat pleadingly.  
“Go, have fun. Be back here by one o’clock for our flight home.”  
“Thank you!” I turn to Vision, “I’m going to get dressed. I’ll be down in five,”  
Vision takes me out for brunch at a place on the water. Though he doesn’t eat, he is so engaging that I hardly notice. It is odd, seeing him like this. Like a human. He is most definitely a person in my mind, but not human. We walk along the water after, sticking to the sidewalks as I am yet to experiment with using my prosthetic on the sand. Our fingers are entangled and seagulls caw overhead. I have the same feeling as I did last night, light and bubbly. We settle onto a bench overlooking the water. There are families on the beach, far more conventional than mine. Teens are surfing and sunbathing.  
“Wanda,” he turns to tell me something, but instead, feeling brave, I kiss him. It has been so long. His lips are warm and soft against mine. I pull away a few moments later and look into his eyes. There are the same as when he is my Vision, not this disguise. It is comforting, like seeing him, his soul.  
Unfortunately, we are almost out of time. It is nearly twelve-thirty. We climb into one of Tony’s cars. It is actually a repeat purchase, as he used to have the exact same model before it exploded in the wilderness of New York.  
“I am happy we got to spend some time together,”  
“Yes, it seems as though we are both kept quite busy.”  
“It’s not like we’re superheroes or something,” I tease. He smiles at me, pulling down a pair of sunglasses.  
The car pulls into the driveway just as it hits one o’clock. My phone begins to ping, and I assume it is Nat asking where I am. However, instead it is my Instagram lighting up. And my name is trending on Twitter. My stomach clenches. I click it open and see pictures of me and Vision on our date. He looks over my shoulder at my phone, his smile melting away.  
“I am almost eighteen, they can’t say this,” I argue. He morphs back into his usual appearance. “You aren’t even technically an adult, right? You’re only two,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.  
“Wanda,”  
“It doesn’t matter, who cares what they think?”  
“Perhaps they are right,”  
“What? How could you think that?” I lock my phone.  
“I just read every post about our date. They are saying I am taking advantage of you.”  
“They don’t even know it is you, Viz. No one knows it was you on the date, we can just tell them.”  
“I don’t think that would go over any better,” he frowns. “I fear I have taken advantage of you.”  
“No, you haven’t. I consented to this relationship. We never even had sex.”  
“We almost did,”  
“Yes, but we didn’t. It is fine. I had a wonderful time today. Please don’t let them bother you. People are ignorant, they say stupid things.”  
“You are an adult, you cannot provide consent. This is me taking advantage of a situation. It is wrong.”  
“No, you haven’t.”  
“My disguise has a driver’s license, a social security card. It says I am thirty-six.”  
“But you aren’t really,” My chest begins to tighten.  
“Wanda, I care for you deeply.”  
“And I love you, which is why it doesn’t matter what the rest of the world thinks. Screw the rest of the world.”  
“You should have the opportunity to get to know male peers your own age. This was selfish of me. I put my own needs above yours, above your safety.”  
“Viz, don’t do this, please don’t do this. You can’t leave me. I love you. You can’t leave.”  
“I would still very much like to be your friend, Wanda.”  
“Of course you would!” I snap, getting out of the car. “You’re saying, ‘It’s not you it’s me. I would like us still to be friends,’” I mock.  
“Exactly,” He nods, missing my sarcasm, or choosing to ignore it. I feel hot angry tears begin to flow down my cheeks.  
“But you just took me on a date, an amazing date!”  
“Yes, and I see now that is wrong. Please do not be angry. I don’t wish to upset you,”  
“Too late for that!” I storm into the house, slamming directly into Natasha.   
“Wanda?” Her phone is in her hand, and I see Maria pacing on the back porch, gesturing emphatically while talking on her cell.  
“I want to go home,”  
“We are fixing this, don’t worry. We’ll explain,”  
“Vision dumped me.”  
“What?”  
“He doesn’t want me. Why wouldn’t he want me? What is wrong with me?”  
“Oh no, Wanda,” She pulls me into her arms, rubbing my back. "There is nothing wrong with you,"  
“Then why do I always end up alone?"   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked this chapter! Next one will be out soon!


	4. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Strong trigger warning for discussions of under aged noncon and unhealthy coping mechanisms***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! Hope you all had a wonderful week! Thank you for all your comments on the last chapter!  
> I'm actually really unsure about this chapter. It gets really dark, even for me. I considered not posting it and having everything happen in a less disturbing way, but well, here we are.  
> Enjoy? Lol  
> As always, feedback and recommendations are always welcome and appreciated! :)

It had been three days since we got home from California. I let Wanda stay home Monday. She laid in my bed and cried all day. I realized that I am very possibly the least qualified person on the planet for this. I have never experienced heartache, a breakup. Whatever I had with Bruce wasn’t a relationship. It was a plan to jump ship. I doubt I am even capable of love like that. It is entirely possible that the Red Room removed that possibility. Between eating pints of Ben and Jerry’s Scarlet Witch Strawberry Swirl, Wanda apologized profusely for how she has been acting, begging me not to leave her. Despite my assurances, on Tuesday, she texted me every hour on the hour from school, checking in. We had gone to the tower after school to fit her for her new uniform, and it was the first time since Sunday I had seen her smile. She hovered a few inches off the ground, her hands glowing red.  
Today, I had been receiving check-ins as well. But at eleven fifteen, I am yet to receive a text from her. She might have a pop quiz; she probably can’t take out her phone. Nevertheless, my stomach twists into knots.  
I am almost finished paying the bills for my safehouses for this month when my cell phone starts to ring. Steve’s name and picture flash across the screen. I stifle a groan and hope he is calling about a mission. If it is to try and talk to me again, I may just block him, Avengers be damned. He is barking into the phone before I can even give a sharp greeting.  
“You need to pick up Wanda, now.”  
“Why?” I ask, though I am already grabbing my keys and running to the elevator.  
“Bring her to the compound.”  
“Why?” I demand, sprinting to the garage. No time to wait for the valet.  
“Someone released the Sokovia documents.” I peel out of the garage, rushing to the school. The Bluetooth in my car starts to ring, Peter.  
“Steve, I have to go.” I switch calls.  
“Ms. Romanoff?”  
“Peter, is Wanda okay?”  
“She is hiding in a classroom, I can’t get near her,” his voice hitches. I pull up to the front of the school, throwing my car in park. Principal Moriarty must have been expecting me, as he is waiting at the door, waving me through quickly. He leads me down a maze of hallways, his mouth drawn in a thin line. I find Peter standing in a deserted hallway, running his fingers through his hair.  
“I’m sorry, I tried, but it only made it worse,” He is crying, but I can’t comfort him right now. I open up the classroom door. Wanda is sitting on the floor. Her back is pressed up against the wall and she has her legs pulled into her chest, trying to be as small as possible. Red ribbons swirl around her. The classroom is covered in debris. Desks have been thrown across the room, broken in half. Lights hang from the ceiling by only their wires, blinking on and off.  
“Hi, Little Witch,” She doesn’t seem to hear me, the tendrils continue to encase her just as fiercely, forming a barrier to the outside world. “Wanda, it’s me. You’re okay,” She shakes her head, acknowledging my presence for the first time. “We’re going to the compound, everything is okay. Nothing is going to happen to you,”  
“They’re going to take me away,” She is trembling, causing the red to ripple dangerously. The floor tiles around her crack.  
“No one is going to take you away from me, I promise.” I move closer, now just outside the prison she has trapped herself in. “I would never let that happen,”  
“You can’t promise that.”  
“Yes, I can. We will run from the world if we have to. No one is going to lock you up or hurt you.” I step through the swirls of red, none of them harming me. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight and waiting for her powers to calm. “Remember, it’s you and me. Nothing, no one, can change that. You are safe and you are loved.”  
After nearly twenty minutes, the last bit of red in her eyes finally dies. I help her off the ground, the lengthy demonstration leaving her drained. She leans heavily on me, her eyes drooping.  
The hallway is empty, save for Peter and the principal. I nod in thanks to them both. Wanda doesn’t look up from the floor and her shoulders are folded in. In the passenger seat of my car, she trembles like a leaf, her hands shaking so badly that I have to reach over and click the seatbelt for her.  
“They are going to put me on the Raft,” she begins to hyperventilate. How does she even know that place exists?  
“They will do no such thing. You have protection from the President and the Avengers. No one is putting you in prison.” I pull over, despite us only being a few minutes from the compound, and put the car in park. We are outside of the same campground she ran away to before, the last time she thought she was going to be imprisoned. I wince at my poor choice in stops. “Wanda, look at me.” She does, her blue eyes wide and red rimmed. She has managed to calm her breaths, but then flings open the car door. I fear she is going to run, but instead she vomits onto the ground. My hand moves is slow circles on her back until she is done. “No one in that compound is going to let anyone hurt you. You are our family. I would die before I let them take you away from me.” She shakes her head.  
“I’m not worth it,” The words are so quiet that I almost miss them.  
“You are worth that and so much more.” I squeeze her hand, cold with sweat. For the first time, I regret having a stick as it means I have to let go of Wanda’s hand. She grips it tighter as I peel away her fingers. “Honey, I have to drive the car. We need to get to the compound.” Her hand slides to my wrist. I assured her that everything id going to be fine, but I don’t know if that is true. We had these documents seals and classified for a reason. Steve is waiting on the front steps of the compound and smiles sadly at Wanda. She doesn’t meet his eyes.  
“The rest of the team will be here in an hour,” I nod, guiding Wanda to her bedroom. “I’ll come and get you when everyone’s here,”  
As soon as we cross the threshold to her room, Wanda begins crying once more. Nothing as dramatic as her sobs about school or Vision breaking up with her, but silent, resigned tears pouring down her cheeks.  
“It’s okay, sweet girl. You are not your mistakes. You were young and scared, none of us blame you. You’re a good person,” She lies down on the bed A little while later, Steve raps on the archway. I nod to him and brush back the locks of hair the managed to escape her ponytail. “Why don’t you stay here for the meeting? Rest, sleep,” She nods mutely. I hadn’t expected her to accept the offer. It is so out of character. I kiss her forehead and leave the room, closing the door behind me.  
“How is she?” Steve waits in the kitchen, offering me a cup of coffee.  
“How do you think?” I snap, “The world just found out she is a war criminal.  
“Nat, I don’t want to fight,” He is interrupted by Sam and Clint walking in both are still in combat gear, having been on a mission in Maine.  
“Do we know who released the documents?” Clint demands, slamming his bow on the counter.  
“No, FRIDAY is working on it,” Tony steps in, Bruce not far behind.”  
“Thor?” Sam asks.  
“Off world. Rhodey will be here in five,” Steve explains. We head to the conference room where Maria and Fury are already waiting.  
“Fury, long time no see,” I nod to him.  
“This seemed to warrant my presence.”  
“Let’s get started,” Maria commands. We are long past the days of being handed manilla folders. On our tablets, articles pop up.  
“They are calling them the ‘Sokovia Papers’ like this is the same as the Pentagon Papers. It is ridiculous,” Sam shakes his head.  
“It is a massive coverup,” Tony counters. I shoot him a glare, “Down Red. I’m not saying I agree with them. I am glad we have your little friend on the team, okay?” Clint squeezes my shoulder.  
“What is the public’s reaction right now?” Bruce asks. Tony swipes the screen on his tablet, pulling up a projection. Every news station is covering this. #BurnTheWitch is the top trending tag on Twitter.  
“They have our recounts of the incident in South Africa. Why the Hulk lost it, what happened to each of you. The public knows everything.” Maria tells us quietly, “Even your recommendations for the team.”  
“Great, so they know that they only two people who advocated for her to join the team are an ex-con and an assassin,” I bark.  
“Well then they also know that she changed sides,” Clint argues.  
“They don’t care,” Rhodes walks into the conference room. “Secretary of Ross is calling for a senate hearing, possible impeachment for Ellis. It isn’t looking good. Where is she?”  
“Sleeping. Why do you need to know?”  
“Woah, Nat. I’m a friend. I’m not trying to take her away.”  
“I think for now, it is best if you and Wanda stay here and not at your apartment,” Steve recommends.  
“No shit we aren’t going back to the apartment. But I don’t think we should stay here either. I own dozens of other places we can stay. We can drop off the face of the Earth.”  
“That implies guilt. You can’t run.” I glare at Steve but deflate. I don’t know how to do anything else.  
“Well if we can’t fight, and we can’t run. What are we supposed to do?”  
“We wait,” Fury states. I push back my chair and stand up. The wheeled chair flies against the wall, cracking the glass. The blood is rushing in my ears. I can’t wait. I can fight. I can run. But I can’t wait. Everyone is staring at me. I run.

The gun feels heavy and familiar in my hand. Arrow on one side, hourglass on the other. I pull the trigger. The bullet soars through the air. I fire again. And again. Stepping closer each time. I go through three magazines. They can’t do this. They can’t take her away. The entire bullseye to the target has been shot out. I drop my gun and it clatters to the ground.  
“You really should be protecting your ears when you do this,” I turn and see Steve holding a pair of headphones.  
“Fuck off, Rogers.” I pull down the paper, shoving it into the trash.  
“Nat, please. We need to talk.”  
“I don’t want to talk to.” I hiss, picking my gun off the ground and sliding it into my thigh holster.  
“Please, I have said I am sorry. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”  
“Leave me alone,” I try to push past him. He grabs my arm. I turn and swing, cracking my fist across his jaw. My knuckles explode in pain, as though I had punched concrete.  
“You said,” I shove him, hot tears burning my eyes, “what you almost said,” I shove him again. “You can’t say that. You can never say that,” I give him one last shove, throwing him against the wall.  
“Nat, I know. I’m sorry.”  
“Those were the nine of the worst months of my life. You know that. You were there,”  
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”  
“You were there,” I repeat, my voice breaking.  
“I just want you to know that,”  
“No, you don’t get to talk. I see your face every time you see that scar. Ever since you found out who the Winter Soldier is. You get this weird, sad pity in your eyes. And I can’t stand it,”  
“I hate that my best friend did that to you. That it’s my fault for letting him fall. That I should have done more.”  
“You think this,” I pull up the bottom of my Henley, exposing the scar, “is the worst thing your _friend_ ever did to me?” I laugh coldly. “Did Fury really not tell you?”  
“Tell me what?” He slowly brings his eyes away from my scar and back to me.  
“The Winter Soldier, _Bucky_ , trained me.”  
“Your fighting styles are completely different. I’ve fought both of you.”  
“Fighting is not the only thing I was trained in, Captain. You know that.” I bend down to pick up the shells that litter the floor, humming _Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen_.  
“No,”  
“I really thought Fury would have told you when we were in that cave. Or would have at some point. If not him, Clint, at least to get you to stop talking about your broken tin soldier.” I finish gathering the last of the shell casings, some still warm in my hands. The warmth feels like a tether, the only thing stopping me from floating off into space. “He was one of many instructors, Steve. But when your twelve, you don’t forget the feeling of metal fingers inside of you.” He won’t meet my eyes, but his skin pales, “Yet, I would rather listen to your talk about him every day than ever hear you that up again.”  
“Please, Nat, I’m so,”  
“And the worst part is that when you look at me with pity over this fucking scar, I feel bad for making you upset. For making you think of your Bucky, lost somewhere in the world. Meanwhile, I have to look at it everyday and be reminded of the person who helped turn me into a monster.”  
“Please, I’m sorry.” He begs, reaching for me once more. I jump back, dropping the shell casings. They scatter on the floor, pinging lightly. I meet Steve’s eyes and I am tempted to apologize to him, for further tarnishing this image he had of his best friend. But my moment of compassion doesn’t last.  
“Just stay out of my way,” I pull open the door and slam it shut behind me. I hate myself. Steve, he is kind and good. He didn't do anything with malintent. If anything he was trying to do the opposite.   
I stumble blindly to my suite, my heart racing. I am losing control. I feel brittle, like I could snap at any moment.  
I begin to fill up the soaking tub with water, pouring in too much lavender oil. Steam begins to fill the bathroom and I sink into the hot water. Despite the calming bath, my mind is still inundated with thoughts.  
My past. This one thing I can’t escape. No matter how far I run, it is always right there behind me. Like a shadow I can’t shake. There is something wrong with me, no matter how hard I try to pretend there isn’t.  
My fight with Steve. I tried to forgive him, but I can’t. He is one of my best friends, and I am so seriously flawed that I can’t forgive Captain America for making a mistake.   
My failure with Wanda. I have ruined her. I put her life in danger time and time again. And now she is saddled with me permanently. The world thinks, knows, she is a war criminal. They are going to be calling for her arrest, like they did mine. She can’t sit in front of the senate, she is a kid. She was drugged in the events leading up to Ultron, she was fifteen. She lost her brother. And now, because I couldn’t keep those files hidden, she could be extradited. Or sent to the Raft. Or it could be a silent sniper in the night. I always leave destruction in my wake. I can’t breathe. Control. Need control.  
I pull myself under the water. After a few minutes, my lungs begin to scream, my heart beating faster and faster. I focus on calming both, my thoughts unable to go to anything else. I am in control. My body begins to fight me, but I force myself to stay under. A few more minutes. I can do a few more. I am in control.  
Something grabs onto my shoulders and I open my mouth in surprise, breathing in water. The warm comfort of the bath disappears as my skin meets the biting air. I cough and sputter, trying to expel the water from my lungs. I rest my head on the lip of the porcelain tub, dazed as I try to get my bearings, to catch my breath. Someone pulled me up. I raise my head and see Wanda staring back at me in wide-eyed panic.  
“Wanda,” I rasp, trying to come up with an explanation.  
“What the fuck was that?” She stumbles back, drenched in the lavender water. I reach for my towel, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I am. How exposed.  
She sinks down onto the rug in front of the vanity, and I can’t get a gauge on her emotions. “I saw you, on the Fourth of July. I thought I misjudged how long you were underwater,”  
“Please, Wanda,”  
“Are you trying to kill yourself?”  
“No, no.” I assure her, dropping the towel as soon as my bathrobe in on. The thoughts are coming back twice as loud. “Why are you even in my room? My bathroom?” I snap, pulling the drain on the tub. The metal chain is slippery with oil.  
“You left the door open!” she replies, matching my tone. “Do you know what it looked like when I saw you in the water? I thought you were dead!” She ends in a high-pitched wail, raking her fingers through her hair.  
“I promised I wasn’t going to leave you; I will always do everything in my power to keep that promise.” I crouch down to be at her level. Any semblance of control I held moments ago is gone. My heartrate has picked back up, no matter how hard I try, it won’t slow. I place a hand gently on her knee.  
“Don’t touch me,” she snarls, jerking away. I flinch at her rejection, unable to hide the pain it causes. Of course, she doesn’t want me to touch her. It is disgusting, what I was just doing. I’m disgusting. What the Winter Soldier did to me doesn’t bother me in the right way. I am angry that I feel nothing now. That it is his fault. That he took a piece of my humanity. I can’t bring myself to care that he raped me on my sixteenth birthday. Or any of the multitude of things he and the other trainers forced me to do from the time that I was twelve years old. I felt nothing. _Good job, Natalia._ I bask in the glow of Madam B’s praise. _They are happy with your performance, Natalia._ It is like being drenched in sunlight on a cold winter morning. _That was innovative, Natalia._ Praise was a rare thing in the Red Room, more precious than food, oxygen. _You’re a lot more mature than the other girls, Natalia. Some of the guards just returned from a mission. Pleasure them, Natalia._  
I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet, trying not to disappear. Shame courses through my veins, thicker than blood. I am losing control. I promised I wouldn’t lose control.  
“Nat,” her voice is soft. I am falling apart at the seams in front of her, I need to pull myself together. “Please explain to be why you were drowning yourself.”  
“I wasn’t. I wasn’t going to kill myself. You know I can’t.” I stand up and begin to work my fingers through my tangled and matted braid.  
“But you were doing something,”  
“I needed to feel in control,” It sounds so ridiculous, saying that aloud. I needed to force myself to the brink of death, to the point right before my programming takes in.  
“That’s doesn’t make any sense,”  
It isn’t a form of punishment, or a way to get off, to get high from the oxygen deprivation. It is a power trip. Being able to control your body’s automatic nervous system. To force your heartbeat and lungs to bend to your will. I can feel my lungs expanding and contracting, the blood pumping in my heart. It is like watching a machine work. A finely tuned and modified machine. Unnatural, lab made. Less than human.  
_My first time posing as a prostitute. Madame B, a madam in every sense of the word, escorts me. I’m nearly seventeen. This is a privilege, an honor, she told me. Most girls aren’t ready until they are eighteen. I smile at her, thanking her for the opportunity. She waits in the lobby as I join a man in the elevator. We go into a hotel room where I see his boss, the one whom he is double crossing to rise to the top. He will have loyalty to the Red Room now, Madame B explained to me. We must foster powerful alliances wherever we can. I have sex with him. It is incredibly boring, his wants are predictable, vanilla. It isn’t until I kill him that I am able to be creative. I am to use the methods of a rival crime organization. After cutting out his tongue, I carve a warning into his chest, the knife slicing through his skin like butter. I finished ten minutes ahead of schedule. As if predicting this, the door to the room opens and Madame B reviews my work. “Well done, Natalia. You are a true Black Widow.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that was so dark! I am hoping to get the next chapter of Volition out tonight as well. Stay safe and healthy everyone! Chapter 5 of Kindred will probably be out some time this weekend!


	5. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you are having a good week and staying safe and healthy! I wrote myself into a bit of a corner with the last chapter, a bit too much plot stuff at once lol, too much to address! Any who, please enjoy this nice long chapter!  
> Thank you all for your lovely comments on the last chapter!! I reread them while I wrote and found them extremely helpful!  
> Also! New Chapter of Volition has been posted, Nat takes down the Red Room!

I roll over to find Natasha gone. I had been waking up screaming for the first three nights of our stay at the compound. Nightmares assaulting me. Having a false wake to Pietro’s bullet riddled body lying next to me. A house falling on top of me. The shocks of an electric collar. Last night, Natasha didn’t even bother trying to sleep in her room. Not that I didn’t have night terrors, but her reaction time to silencing them was quicker, allowing everyone else to sleep a little better. I see a note on my bedside table. _Run w/ Clint_ is scrawled hastily on a sticky note. I pull on my leg and head towards the kitchen.  
“You just want to stop?” I pause in the hall, trying to figure out who Sam is talking to, “Are you sure, man? We’ve gotten pretty close a few times.”  
“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s pretty obvious at this point that he doesn’t want to be found.” Steve.  
“Whatever you want,” I step into the kitchen just in time to see Sam clap a hand on Steve’s back before heading towards the gym.  
Steve is sitting at the counter, a faded bruise on his jaw. This is my first time seeing him since my arrival days ago. It is my first time having the courage to venture into the common area. When I get closer, I see his eyes are burning with an intensity that I rarely see outside of missions, staring at his newspaper.  
“The Sunday comics intense this morning?” I try to sound lighthearted. He looks up surprise, as I pour myself a cup of coffee.  
“Hey kid, how are you doing?”  
“Great. The entire world wants to burn me at the stake.” So much for sounding bright and cheery. “Have you seen what they are saying about me?”  
“None of its true,”  
“I’m pretty sure all of it is.” I reach for the sugar, but someone moved it to the top shelf. With a red tendril, I pull it into my hand. The canister hits my palm with a satisfying thump.  
“Your control has gotten really good,”  
“Yeah, well I thought I needed to make myself valuable to the team since I’m a cripple. Not that it matters now.”  
“You’re still on the team, Wanda.” I scoff.  
“Sure. That’s the PR move of the century right there.”  
“I’m serious. Nothing has changed.”  
“If this was such a good idea, someone wouldn’t have punched you in the face.” I gesture to the faded bruise. “Must’ve been Tony with an Ironman fist since we didn’t have a raging Hulk. Not that I’m surprised he’d want me gone,”  
“Tony did not punch me in the face. Everyone is on board with keeping you on the team. Tony, Fury, Rhodes.” He looks at me seriously. I wonder now what he and Sam were talking about, but I can’t ask without admitting I was eavesdropping.  
“There is no way they want me on the team, not with what is happening on Twitter right now. Burn the witch, right?”  
“Give me your phone,”  
“Excuse me?” I cross my arms.  
“Give me your phone. You don’t need to be reading stuff like that.”  
“I am not giving you my phone.”  
“As your captain, I am demanding that you give me your phone.” He holds out his hand expectantly.  
“I’m not Natasha. I can actually say no to your orders.” I snap.  
“What is that supposed to mean?”  
“You know, for being one of her best friends, there is an awful lot you don’t know about her,”  
“Wanda, I am not going to say this again, give me your phone.”  
He reaches across the counter to snatch it. I force his arm behind his back. He tries to grab with the other and I drop my coffee. I manage to levitate the mug before it crashes to the floor and try to pull my phone out of Steve’s grasp. Suddenly, Steve stops reaching for the phone and throws his hands up in surrender.  
“Deep breaths, Wanda. I won’t take it, okay?” It is only now that I notice the cabinets are shaking, dishes rattling. “Wanda, please calm down. It’s okay.” I try to take deep breaths but feel my panic escalating. It is my fault Natasha was drowning herself. I forced her to do that. I have put the team in danger. They are harboring a war criminal. I destroyed my last home, and now I am doing it to this one as well. I didn’t mean to do it.  
“I didn’t know,”  
“What?”  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” I rub the spot where the port used to be. If I look closely, I can still see the slight glint of a scar. My phone lights up. I look down and see Pietro trending on Twitter. A picture of his grave, broken and graffitied. They defaced his grave. I didn’t even know people knew where it was. No one cared about him before now. No one cared that he helped save the world, saved Clint. Now all they care about is his biggest mistake. “Take it,” I hand Steve the phone. “I’m sorry.”  
“Wanda,” I rush out of the kitchen, slamming my bedroom door behind me. I lay for hours, staring up at the ceiling. I miss my stars. Natasha had insisted that they be at least somewhat accurate, creating constellations. Right above my head is Gemini, the twins. But instead, this ceiling is blank, white.  
“Wanda, come on. You have to get up. We are having a team meeting.”  
“What does it matter? They are going to do what they want with me,” I burrow deeper under the covers.  
“You skipped lunch and dinner yesterday. Get up.” She strips away the blankets, leaving me shivering, and pulls open the blinds.  
“You’re mean,”  
“You’re wallowing in self-pity.” She accuses. I sit up angrily. It is easy to forget how cutting and brutal Nat can be. “The meeting is in a half hour. I want you showered and dressed. Breakfast will be waiting for you in the conference room.”  
“But Nat,”  
“No. I understand you are going through a hard time, an impossible time. But I want to remind you I am the only person on the planet who has gone through the exact same thing. So, I want you to get your ass out of bed and clean up.”  
I sit slack jawed at her tough love. I actually forgot that all her records were released into the world. But she did it by choice. Granted, it was to take down Hydra and save the world. I mull over the possibilities of what is going to happen in this meeting. Last night, outside my room, I heard Natasha talking to Rhodey about Ross wanting me in protective custody. My hands shake as I try to squirt out conditioner.  
With one minute to spare, I step into the conference room. Everyone gives me tired but warm smiles. There is a spot open between Nat and Clint with a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee. Both taste like nothing. Natasha nudges my shoulder affectionately before directing her attention to Maria.  
“You are going to do an interview with _60 Minutes_ , originally it was going to be _20/20_ , but the PR team has determined that it is too sensational.”   
“We are not putting my daughter in front of the media for a trial.” Natasha hisses.  
“Sokovia has already come out and said that if she ever steps foot in the country again, they will have her arrested and tried for treason and war crimes.” The pain of my home country disowning me is indescribable.  
“We are all already banned from Sokovia anyway, I don’t see how that makes much of a difference,” Natasha bites. We are banned from Sokovia?  
“I am going to do an interview, alone?”  
“For the most part, yes. Natasha will be in the room the entire time.”  
“Will they give me the questions ahead of time?”  
“No.” I look nervously to Natasha. She wasn’t told of this prior to the meeting, I don’t think any of us were.  
“As much as I love to play the offensive, Nick, I am not comfortable with this.”  
“We should do it,” I take a deep breath.  
“Wanda,” Clint begins.  
“We need to create our own narrative, that’s what you’re saying, right?” I look to Hill and Fury. Maria nods.  
“I have to agree with Red and Legolas, I don’t feel comfortable with this. They can ask whatever they want.”  
“If its classified, you don’t answer.”  
“This is better than a congressional hearing or being summoned by the senate.” Maria looks pointedly at Natasha.  
“Do you think it will help?” I ask Maria. She nods, “I think its your best shot.”

I sit across from Leslie Stahl; she smiles kindly at me. She interviewed Steve when he came out of the ice, and Tony back when he first announced he was Ironman. We are sitting in the apartment, and it is a relief to be home, even if only for a few hours. The security around the building right now is insane, as though Nat and I cannot defend ourselves. Clint and Sam are on the roof, while Tony and Cap are on the ground. That is not including the dozens of security guards roaming the halls.  
“Hi Wanda, I’m Leslie,” she sticks out her hand. I’m surprised she wants to shake mine. I offer it in turn.  
“It’s nice to meet you,” I smile shyly.  
“Do you want to start with a tour of the apartment?”  
“Sure,” I nod, relieved to start with something easy. We start in the kitchen. She asks questions about cooking and dinners. There is a large dining table for family dinners that we have never had a chance to host.  
“Do you and your mom hang out in here a lot?” She gestures to the living room.  
“We have weekly movie nights here, and sometimes when I’m done with my homework, we watch whatever sitcom is on that night.”  
“She told me you like comedies, is that true?”  
“Yes,” I smile brightly, “When I first came here, I watched a lot of them, trying to familiarize myself with American culture.”  
“Do you have a favorite?”  
“Probably _The Office_ , or maybe _I Love Lucy_.” I show her the gym next; it isn’t very exciting. We go into my bedroom and I feel exposed.  
My wheelchair is in the corner, and the crutches are propped up next to my nightstand for when I have to get up in the middle of the night. Natasha stands behind the cameraman, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. “This is where I do my homework,” I gesture to the desk and spin the globe.  
We walk through and they go into my bathroom, which I wasn’t expecting. I bite the inside of my cheeks.  
“Nat designed this shower for me when I lost my leg,” They look at my closet next and finally, before they can start going through my drawers, Nat tells them to move it along. I smile at her gratefully. We head into the library. “This is where we spend most of our time.”  
“You like to read?” I nod.  
“And learn. I love to learn.”  
“You’re a polyglot, correct?”  
“Yes. I speak nine languages fluently, working on finishing my tenth by November. A lot of that is thanks to Nat. She perfected my English and taught me four other languages in the past two years.” I invite her to sit down in Nat’s chair. “Normally, there is a pot of tea between us and we have reading competitions.”  
“Do you like having the Black Widow as your mom?”  
“She’s the best,” I grin. “She’s my favorite person.”  
“You guys seem to go on a lot of fun trips and are out and about in Manhattan.” I nod again, waiting for a question. “What was it like growing up in Sokovia?”  
“I lived in a two-bedroom apartment with my parents and twin brother, Pietro. It was in the city center. My father was a musician and my mother was a schoolteacher.”  
“You were seven when the war broke out?”  
“It didn’t get bad until I was about nine. That’s when food became harder to come by. We had to burn our furniture for heat.” I pull my sleeves over my hands.  
“In the reports, we read about the bombing of your apartment building. You and your brother hid under a bed for days, waiting for a bomb inches away to go off. Correct?” I nod. “What happened after that?”  
“We were homeless. We had no other family, and the orphanages were too full,” I try to adjust my leg, uncomfortable. “We were on the streets until we were thirteen,”  
“What changed?” This is the part the world doesn’t know. I look over to Natasha fearfully, and then take a deep breath, redirecting my attention. “Someone tried to rape me in the market while Pietro was looking for food. I stopped looking like a little girl, things were changing. People were getting more desperate. There were militia men in the streets who would grope me.” I hadn’t told Nat that part, but I can’t look over at her. “So, when we heard someone was looking for volunteers for a test, we agreed. They promised food and a bed. We just didn’t know at what cost.” I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. “They started out with thirty of us. Within six months, it was just me and my brother. The rest died. We were kept in cages with glass fronts, to be observed like zoo animals. The only reason I knew he was alive was that I could hear his screams in the next cell over. He had developed powers, could run like lightning. It took me longer, they got impatient. My powers surfaced and they thought I was dangerous. They created their own monster. It is like _Frankenstein_.”  
“What happened then?”  
I tell her how they drugged me, ran tests on me. The same things I admitted to Natasha months ago. It is easier to say out aloud the second time, but not by much. We have to take frequent breaks. I somehow end up with a mug of tea in my hand.  
“This is when you saw into Tony Stark’s head?” I nod.  
“I saw his fears. All I knew is what they had been telling me, that it was his fault. That he would destroy my country. So, I let them take the scepter.”  
“The next time the Avengers saw you was in South Africa, at this point you were working with Ultron. You manipulated their minds to make them feel as though they were living in their fears, is that correct?”  
“Yes,” I feel small. “I attacked the woman who would later become my mom, yes. It is a guilt I deal with every day.”  
“We now know that you almost died on Sokovia but were saved by your future teammate.”  
“That was the worst day of my life.” I shift again, my leg aching. I had gone running early this morning. I press through the pain, ignoring the tears prickling at my eyes. “I lost both my twin, my other half, and my country.” I look behind the camera and see Natasha is gone. Panic sets in my chest. I try to think of something I could has said that angered or upset her. It was probably talking about South Africa. I should have just avoided it, not mentioned my guilt at all. Evaded.  
However, she steps back into the library, ice pack in hand. She smiles at me, the little smile that only those who know her can see. It is too small for the rest of the world. She shoots a glare at the cameraman and boom operator, who allow her into the interview space.  
“Take it off,”  
“Nat,” I flush in embarrassment, looking over at my interviewer.  
“Come on, Little Witch,” I relent, taking off my leg, ducking my head in embarrassment. “The camera is focused on your head anyway,” She wraps the icepack around my residual limb. I give a small smile in thanks, the numbing properties of the ice already helping. She turns to the crew. “You may continue.” As if they are on her payroll, under her charge. I look at her with adoration.  
“What did you think of Captain America’s statement yesterday?” I duck my head.  
“I had my phone taken away,” Leslie laughs lightly, starting to say something about being a typical teenager, “They didn’t want me seeing the things people are saying about me. Or how people desecrated my brother’s grave.” The lightness of the moment instantly disappears.  
“Would you like me to read you the statement?” I nod. “We understand that everyone is confused and feels betrayed, that we have broken your trust. This was not our goal and we sincerely apologize for that. However, that is the only thing we are sorry for. Wanda Maximoff is a member of the Avengers and has put her life on the line many times in order to protect this world and the people in it. She made a mistake, as many of us have, and has since only tried to make up for this error. We do not have any regrets in letting the Scarlet Witch join our team. She has saved millions of people since joining, staving off world catastrophes that remain unknown to the rest of the world. Without her, the world would be a much more dangerous place.” She smiles at me. “Those are some strong words from Captain America,”  
“Yes,” I blush at his public declaration of my worth, my value, to his team.  
“Is there a specific event that he was referencing?” I hear Natasha reaching out to me with her thoughts.  
“There was a bomb in Morocco about a year ago. It would have killed at least a five hundred thousand people, probably more. I contained it.”  
“You didn’t diffuse it or throw it into the ocean?”  
“No, there wasn’t time. I went up to it and just hoped I was strong enough to hold the blast.”  
“That is incredibly brave. It is easy to forget, even when I sit here talking to you, that you are only seventeen. What are your plans for the future?”  
“Graduate high school,” I grin, “Go to college. Normal things like that. But I will never stop being an Avenger, it’s a part of who I am.”  
“You want to keep being an Avenger? After all you have lost,” her eyes drift to my leg, “and how the world has treated you?”  
“Life hasn’t been kind to me, I am not delusional. But I made a terrible mistake. There are lots of things we can blame it on: drugs, grief, being young. No matter the cause, the mistake was made. The reason does not absolve me of guilt. It cannot be undone or taken back. The one thing I can do is to try to do better. Each day I can strive to be better than I was the day before. Despite what has happened, what I have seen, I still think humanity is worth protecting. People are worthy of compassion.”

* * *

Unfortunately, we cannot stay at our apartment. When the interview is finished and the crew packs up, I am surprised to see the team walking through the door. Tony instantly informs me and the rest of the team that this is not his first time here. He is the one who installed the “No Place Like Home” protocol.  
“It only took a PR nightmare to get Capsicle to visit Manhattan,” Tony claps Steve on the shoulder, who is look around the apartment in subtle awe.  
“Take a picture, Rogers. It will last longer.” Natasha walks out of her bedroom with a leather jacket in hand, the one I gave her for her birthday last year.  
“Has Maria told you when the interview is going to air?” Clint asks.  
“They are doing a special weekday edition, its coming on Wednesday.” Natasha squeezes my hand. One look at her and it is immediately obvious how exhausted she is. “President Ellis is going to finally speak out after.”  
“According to Rhodey, he is not happy with Ross.” Tony throws a porcelain ball from the dining table centerpiece in the air. Natasha snatches it before he can catch it.  
“You are going to break something, and then I will break you.”  
“If I didn’t know better, Natashalie, I would say you think of this place as home.” Nat looks about ready to strangle Tony. Clint and Sam quickly step in to diffuse the situation.  
“Let’s get back to the compound. We can have dinner and a movie night. Okay?” Clint looks at Natasha with concern.  
After the drowning incident, she had descended into a flashback. She ended up punching the mirror in the bathroom and Clint had to come in and restrain her. When she came through, she apologized to me over and over again. I feel nothing but guilt and shame for driving her to that state. Over the past two days, she had begun to look better. She was running and training constantly. She had spent a few hours with Tony in his lab, developing a new weapon. She told me she wants to learn how to fight with a staff. Right now, though, she looks like she is having trouble staying awake. It occurs to me, that just because she has been staying in my room, doesn’t mean she has been sleeping.  
That evening, during the movie, she falls asleep on Clint’s shoulder. We are down to a barebones presence at the compound, everyone else having other places to be. Maria is curled up with Sam on the couch, while I am sandwiched between Nat and Steve. We watch _Superbad_ , passing three bowls of popcorn between us.  
“She’s getting enough oxygen, right?” I sign to Clint. I think of her being tired all the time, the dark circles under her eyes. Clint nods, watching her chest rise and fall. I had never seen Natasha be able to sleep with the TV on.  
I wake up in the morning to something being tossed onto my bed. I groan, shoving a pillow over my head.  
“Since when do you sleep in?”  
“What is the point in getting up? I don’t have school, I’m basically on house arrest, there is nothing else going on.” I feel the bed shift as she sits down.  
“You seemed better yesterday, what’s going on?”  
“I’m not in the mood,” I snap.  
“Okay, Chickadee. Get up,” Nat pulls me by my arms, and I sit up reluctantly. I see my blade.  
“What’s that for?”  
“Combat training, come on.”  
“But,”  
“I’ll see you down in the gym. You have ten minutes.”  
I pull open the heavy doors to the training room and see Natasha stretching on the mat. She beckons me to join her. After ten or so minutes, she jumps up lithely. The two hours of sleep she got during the movie seems to have given her new life, while I feel like I could crawl back in bed for the rest of my life.  
“Nat, I’m really not in the mood to have my ass kicked.”  
“It won’t be as long as you fight back,” I sigh in resignation and drop into a fighting stance.  
“What is that?”  
“What?” I huff. She steps forward and roughly adjusts my feet. I hate to admit it, but I feel infinitely more stable. Nat steps away, hands behind her back.  
“Attack me.”  
“Please,”  
“Come on. Hand to hand, close quarters combat. Or I can go grab Cap and have him do this.” The idea of my first fight back being with Steve is enough to force me into some kind of action. I lunge at her halfheartedly. She dodges easily, not even unclasping her hands. “Again.” I miss. By the fifth time, I am getting frustrated. She dances around the mat without breaking a sweat, her hands still in the same position. I run forward once more, getting ready to swing. However, at the last moment, instead of swinging at her with my fists, I balance on my leg, sweeping the blade out. It cuts her down quickly, but she catches herself, finally removing her hands from behind her back. Nat smiles, a glint in her eyes.  
Twenty minutes later, I call time, dripping with sweat. I lie back on the blue plastic, huffing, my arms and legs spread out like a starfish.  
“Good job.” I smile at the praise, propping myself up on my elbows.  
“Feeling better?” she asks, crossing her arms.  
“What?”  
“You had a lot of pent up anger and emotions. We can keep going if you need to.”  
“I know this is a whole ploy to distract me from. What is going on in the common area that you didn’t want me to hear?”  
“Steve and Rhodey are having a video conference with Ellis and Ross.”  
“Why aren’t you there?”  
“I lost my temper at the one we had on Saturday. I was uninvited.” She locks up the weapons and turns to me. “I will do whatever I have to in order to keep you safe. You know that, right?” Her tone is desperate.  
“I know, Nat.” She pulls me into a hug, even though I am sticky with sweat. Her initiating physical affection is rare, though not as much as it used to be. Despite the fact that I am taller than her now, I find myself resting my head in the crook of her neck.  
“I have a plan for tomorrow night, if Ellis’s address to the nation is not in our favor. Everything will be okay. No matter what, it’s you and me.” She pulls away, her face hard. “I have some more weapons schematics I want to go over with Tony. I’ll see you later, okay?” I nod. “Go hang out with Clint. I’m sure he could use some company.”

The next day, the compound is tense and quiet. Despite the feast laid before us, none of us ate much at dinner. Even Thor, who just arrived from Asgard, picked only halfheartedly. The TV is tuned to CBS, and the six o’clock news hour is coming to a close. After fighting Clint today, I am sore and tired. My leg is propped up by a stack of pillows on the couch, while holding Natasha’s hand tightly.  
“And now, please stay tuned for a special broadcast of _60 Minutes_.” A nondescript male newscaster announces, staring at the screen. The couch is crowded with Avengers. Though our gatherings are rare, they are normally loud and boisterous, with laughter and teasing. Right now, it is like waiting for a bomb to go off. Maria has her tablet in her lap, her feet resting on Sam. I can see four different applications pulled up with data markers and statistics. Tony paces behind the couch, only stopping when Pepper grabs him, wrangling him back to the sofa. A commercial for State Farm ends, advertising superhero insurance, when my interviewer, Leslie Stahl appears on screen. She is sitting on a stool and behind her are two photos. On the right is one of the team, and on the left is a picture of me during our interview. My eyes are shining with love and adoration. I know this must be an outtake from when Natasha was bossing around the crew. The introduction begins.  
“Wanda Maximoff is best known for being an Avenger, and until last week, a hero. However, documents came to light, revealing that she got her start in the superhero world in an entirely different role: that of a villain. On Monday, I had the opportunity to sit down with Ms. Maximoff in her New York City apartment that she shares with Black Widow, her adoptive mother. It offered a rare glimpse into the daily life of the Avengers. There was a calendar on the counter with doctor’s appointments and parent teacher conferences. Ms. Romanoff even offered to make me a peanut butter sandwich, her daughter’s favorite, when we took a lunch break. There were some not so normal parts of the lives too. The apartment is equipped with high tech security, that I was allowed to see but not film, and a professional training facility where the two train daily. In tonight’s special weeknight edition of _60 Minutes_ , we learn about what could lead a fifteen-year-old girl to aid in genocide and her path to joining Earth’s mightiest heroes.” The screen cuts away to the signature ticking stopwatch.  
I am surprised to see the moments with Natasha weren’t cut. There is a part during lunch where she asks if I got my math assignment submitted. And then when a cup of tea randomly ends up in my hands as my eyes begin to flash red. Even the part where she is giving me the icepack. I was more open than I remember when we were in my bedroom. The team becomes extremely sober when we get to the part of me explaining my recruitment to the testing, and how they drugged us. They didn’t know. Only Sam and Nat knew, maybe Clint to an extent. I can feel their eyes on me, the pity. The interview ends with my speech about what I want to do next. It sounds almost too righteous, too much like Captain America, but the squeeze Nat gives my hand says otherwise. The screen cuts away to Stahl saying that cut questions and behind the scenes could be viewed on their website. At exactly eight o’clock sharp, the TV blinks, the presidential seal appearing. The previous interview was to sway the public’s opinion, this is for the governments and law enforcement of the world. Natasha gently pulls me closer as we get a view of the Oval Office. I can’t do it. I pull myself off the couch and grab the crutches that rest on the ground. My heart pounds. I could be going to prison. Or be given a permanent shock collar, as I heard Tony and Bruce frantically whispering about yesterday.  
Like a child, I end up hiding in my closet. I am hidden behind gala dresses and layers of organza when I hear the door creak open. Rather than force me back out into the living room with everyone else, or at least out of the closet, Nat settles in beside me. She wipes the tears from my cheeks with her sleeve. I didn’t even know I was crying.  
“Mom, I’m scared.”  
“That’s okay,” She begins to work her fingers through my hair and I feel myself relax slightly. “I’m scared too,” she admits, “But everything will be okay.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Because it has to be,”  
We head back into the living room a half hour later and the mood is noticeably lighter. I look hopefully at the team. But just because it isn’t as bad as we thought, doesn’t mean it’s still not bad.  
“President Ellis and the United Nations have determined that you are pardoned on all counts of war crimes. You have the full protection of an American citizen at home and overseas,”  
“Ross is not happy, tweeting up a storm.” Maria adds, “The public is still torn, though leaning in your favor. We will have to play it safe for a while,”  
“Can we go home?” I ask. Steve shakes his head.  
“Let’s give it a few weeks. There are some very vocal groups that are not happy with this decision. Keeping you safe is our top priority.”  
“You just want company again,” Tony jeers. “Living alone getting to you, Cap?” I turn to Nat. Her eyes sparkle and she gives my newly braided hair a light tug.  
“Celebratory pancakes?” I nod. She flashes me a bright, genuine smile and begins to take orders. Clint asks for one in the shape of an arrow. Steve blushes at what it actually looks like, while Tony cannot stop laughing. Things are good now. The threat of Sokovia is no longer looming over me, waiting to come out of the shadows and expose me as a monster. But even as I sit at the counter with my team, I can’t help but feel like this was too easy. That there was no battle against the U.S. army. Secretary Ross didn’t kick down our door, demanding to take me to the Raft. We are here, in the compound, making late night pancakes. It was too easy. Which usually means something worse is coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Ominous vibes~ If I could add gifs, I'd do the one of the old lady saying "Honey, you've got a big storm a'comin'"  
> I hope you all liked this chapter! Sorry if it was a little wordy!  
> I grew up watching 60 minutes with my family every Sunday, I was feeling a bit nostalgic and chose them for the media interview. There are actually SIX, yes SIX, version of this chapter in my monster document. They are all wildly different! Thank you all for following along! As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!  
> *This chapter has not been proof-read, sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors. I will fix them later today!


	6. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you are all having a great week! Sorry for the short chapter, finals and work are kicking my butt! This chapter was originally longer, but the scenes I had in here weren't working right and I was running out of patience and time. Natasha’s POV just wasn’t cooperating! Hope you are all staying safe and healthy! Enjoy!

Around eleven, Wanda heads to her room. Thor had already left, heading to Australia to see Jane, promising to be back in time for Tony’s wedding. Sam and Maria went to bed, both high off our victory.  
“Nat,” I sit down next to her on the bed. Despite the win, Wanda doesn’t seem happy.  
“What’s wrong, Little Witch?”  
“How can they just do that?”  
“Do what?”  
“Just decide I didn’t commit those crimes? Because I did them, I remember doing them,”  
“They decided that you aren’t guilty, not that you didn’t do them,”  
“That doesn’t make sense,” she frowns.  
“You weren’t acting on your own volition. You were manipulated, impaired.”  
“So, like what happened to you?”  
“No. They just decided I’m of more use working for them than rotting at the bottom of the ocean. I’m still guilty. Clint might agree with you though.” I rise from her bed. “You are not your mistakes. Every move you’ve made to be better since is who you are. Brave, kind, thoughtful. Don’t let anyone else convince you otherwise.” I hand over her phone. “Please use it responsibly and come to one of us if you need to talk. Okay?” She nods her eyes drooping. Unsurprising as she has barely slept in a week, regardless of the fact that she spent most of the time in bed. It makes my stomach churn; it reminds me too much of after she lost her leg.  
“G’night,” she mumbles, already falling asleep.  
“Good night, sweet girl.” I shut the door quietly behind me and it clicks shut. I sigh and head into the kitchen. Pepper has gone to bed as well. Just me and the boys. The mood has dropped since Wanda left. Brave faces are no longer being sported, everyone grim. Tony, Steve, and Clint each have a glass of whiskey. For Steve, it is more something to do with his hands. Bruce has his hands clasped. I do not have the energy for this. Tony is already half in the bag, having started while we were making pancakes.  
“I’m really not in the mood.” I warn them, pulling a bottle of vodka from the freezer.  
“I just wish you had told us!” Tony bemoans, sloshing more whiskey onto the counter than into his glass. I have not seen him this drunk in ages. It is an obvious manifestation of his guilt. I grind my teeth.  
“You had already forgiven her anyway,”  
“It would have been nice to know she wasn’t guilty in the first place,”  
“A heads up would have been good,” Bruce adds, “Just so our reactions weren’t so obvious.”  
“She knows we would never,” Tony begins. The cup in Steve’s hand shatters, spraying glass and alcohol everywhere.  
“She knows that.” I shove the bottle back into the freezer. Drinking is not going to fix things for me right now.  
“And,”  
“I am not going to talk about this right now.” I interject, my voice steady and calm. Inside I am screaming.  
“Nat,” Clint looks up from his drink.  
“I’m fine, I’m going to bed. See you in the morning,” I rush out of the kitchen and into my suite.  
Within minutes of changing into my pajamas, there is a knock at my door. My jaw twitches in irritation.  
“Steve, I didn’t want to talk to you this morning. I don’t want to talk to you now.”  
“It’s me,” I walk over to the door and pull it open. Clint flashes a smile and offers the bottle of vodka as a peace offering, shifting his eyes up.  
We sit down on the roof, the bottle between us, backs against a vent. The lake glistens under the moonlight. I grab the bottle and take a large sip, the liquid going down like water. Clint tries to do the same but ends up coughing and sputtering.  
“How do you drink that stuff? It is like lighter fluid,”  
“It was in my baby bottle,”  
“Really?”  
“No. Jesus Clint, it was a joke.” I roll my eyes, laughing.  
“You are impossible, do you know that?” He closes the gap between us, our shoulders pressing against each other. “But are you okay?”  
“Yeah, it was just a rough few days. Months. Years. Lifetime,”  
“I’m sorry for not stopping Tony,”  
“No, he needed to get it out. I let him go on too.”  
“I haven’t seen Steve perform his own first aid in a while.”  
“He’s a grown man,” I snap, taking the bottle back and jumping up. I walk along the roof’s edge like a balance beam.  
“Nat, come on. Let’s not play that game right now.”  
“It’s only a twenty-five-foot drop. I don’t even think I’d break anything.”  
“Please,”  
“Fine,” I step off the ledge and see Clint’s shoulder’s relaxed.  
“I’m worried about you,”  
“I’m fine.”  
“You don’t know the definition of the word,”  
“An informal adverb meaning in a satisfactory or pleasing manner; very well.”  
“Thanks, that is exactly what I meant.”  
“Sorry, but sometimes it’s fun to mess with you.” I shoot him a smile.  
“Fuck, you’re changing the topic.” He shakes his head. I’m impressed that even drunk he caught on to what I was doing. I had been about to retake my seat, but now I hesitate. Trying to force my guard down, I rejoin him. “Are you guys fighting because you told him about the missions?”  
“What are you talking about? He knows about the honeypots, Clint. He sent me on one for Christ’s sake.”  
“No, and I still can’t believe he sent,” he narrows his eyes, “You are doing it again! Stop that, I am trying to have a conversation with you. Can you stop being a spy for thirty seconds?” he huffs, “So you haven’t told him that you can’t consent to missions? Natasha, you promised.”  
“I told you that I would think about it.”  
“Why haven’t you told him? Or the team?”  
“I don’t want them to know. Hell, I don’t want you and Wanda to know. But you caught me in a moment of weakness.”  
“Nat, the implications are serious. You could be injured, and we don’t know or,”  
“I am fully aware.” I reply calmly. “I am completely and utterly aware of every missing piece of me. But the rest of the team, they don’t see the missing bits, they still think there is this whole picture. I like the illusion, Clint, them thinking I am a real person.  
“The team doesn’t think you’re a real person, they know. You went through some fucked up shit,”  
“As eloquent as always,”  
“Come on, I’m serious. Wanda’s been through some awful stuff. So, she’s less human in your book?” I tense up beside him. “Theoretical, Nat. I know you don’t think that.” He presses up against my shoulder once more. “And you can’t say it’s the serum, because I know you think Steve is a person.”  
“My serum is different, you know that.”  
“You are being impossible,” He groans, “What I _know_ , is that I have to go home to Laura for our anniversary tomorrow, since I missed it on Tuesday, and that you are in a fight with your second best friend.”  
“You had to throw in second best,”  
“Of course,” he takes another sip of the vodka, his eyes watering. I can feel it getting to me, finally. It only took most of the bottle. “I’m worried about you, and you’re not talking to your other sounding board.” I frown at the phrase.  
“You make it sound like I use you two,” I pull away from his side, turning to face him. Do I use them? Is that what I’m doing? Have I manipulated friendship into something darker and twisted? Have I turned them into a mark? Seduced them in some convoluted way for my own benefit? Is that what I have done with everyone?  
“Nat, come on, stay with me here,” Clint nudges me. “That isn’t how I meant it. You’re an amazing friend. You stopped me from killing myself last summer, I didn’t forget that.” The drags me out of my head. This is the first time he has mentioned it, acknowledged it. Just how bad it was. “You have saved my life so many times. Our friendship is equal, okay? Partners. Not to mention all you have done for Steve. You saved his life too, helped him adjust to this new world.”  
“That was an assignment.”  
“Not six years later.” I run my fingers along the empty bottle’s top. “What happened between you two?”  
“We got in a fight on the Fourth of July.” I feel my mouth go dry and I wish there was more alcohol.  
“That was months ago,”  
“Well the fight continues.” I pull my knees up, resting my elbows on them. “Then last week I lost it. I punch him in the face, I think I fractured some bones in my hand. And I told him, about Bucky, the Winter Soldier, James. Whatever you want to call him. I told him about his role in my upbringing, if you can call it that.”  
“Well that makes sense, now.”  
“What?” I shoot him a look.  
“Sam and I were talking,”  
“You and Sam talk?”  
“We’re the only non-enhanced people on the field team, we related. You try running around with gods every day. Anyway, he said Steve called off the search.” Guilt explodes in my chest. He stopped searching for his best friend because of me. Besides Peggy, the only tie to his past.  
“Why would he do that?”  
“What do you mean?” He looks at me incredulously.  
“It’s his best friend. Why would he do that?”  
“You can be so clueless, zero emotional intelligence,” I pull away, shocked by his flippant cruelty. “Shit, Nat. Were you serious?” I stand up unsteadily, feeling sick. “I didn’t mean it. I swear, I thought you were messing with me, like earlier. Please, sit back down. I’m sorry,”  
“It seems as though I lack the intelligence needed to continue this conversation,” I say unemotionally, my voice completely flat. Clint stands up, stumbling, clearly drunker than me.  
“I just forget, I’m sorry,”  
“I guess that means I am doing a better job pretending than I thought,” I maintain my composure, walking towards the stairs.  
“Nat, wait. I didn’t mean anything by it.”  
“I will see you at the wedding, Barton.”  
“Natasha!” I ignore him and dash back down the stairs. I feel like I am going to be sick. And I still don’t know what Clint was referring to. What am I clueless about? I slam the door to my bedroom and sink to floor. I try to force my breaths to calm down, as they come faster and faster.  
“Nat?” I freeze and look up. Wanda is standing the center of the room, her eyes wide. “What happened?”   
“Nothing, I’m okay.” I rise from the floor and brush off my pants. “Why are you in here?”  
“I didn’t want to be alone,” Nightmare. They are always worse when we are at the compound. At home, she can usually make it through the night without coming into my room. Home. Tony is right, I have decided to make a home. Not a place to stay or sleep. But a place to live. Wanda adjusts her grips on her crutches.  
“You can stay in here tonight,” I offer, heading into the bathroom to brush the tastes of vodka out of my mouth. There is a new mirror. I look fine, but on the inside, it is like I have been stabbed in the heart. _He was drunk and joking_ , I remind myself. But there is always a sliver of truth. Can I really not understand emotions unless I am manipulating them to my own will? But doesn’t that involve some understand of emotions? Is it because mine aren’t right? That they are dulled? How is it that after all these years, I still can’t get it right? I rub a warm facecloth across my face and am able to finally take a deep breath. After a few moments, I gather the courage to head back into the bedroom.  
Much to my dismay, Wanda is wide awake. She had turned on one of the bedside lamps, thrumming her fingers anxiously. She smiles when she sees me, a hopeful and desperate smile.  
“You don’t need to worry yourself with my problems,” I slip into the bed.  
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just lay here, wondering. Pondering all the possibilities,”  
“Clint said something that didn’t sit right,” I admit, turning off my light. She stubbornly leaves hers on, lengthening this conversation. “Did you know Steve called off his search for Bucky?”  
“Yes,” I turn to face her, “I walked in on him and Sam talking about it. I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot. I think it had something to do with your fight, your scar,” I roll back once more, staring up at the ceiling.  
“I don’t understand,” The words taste like acid in my mouth. Emotion begins to trickle into my voice, and I force it back down. “I don’t understand why he would do that for _me_.” I understand the sentiment of calling off the search, had it been anyone else. But its me. I’m not worth the loss of opportunity to find that piece of his past.  
“For the same reason you always try to hide your scar around him. He doesn’t want to hurt you.”   
“It’s hurting him,”  
“People will do anything for those they care about. You know that better than anyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter! A bit more angst than I usually have, but I promise things will start to turn around!  
> It is going to snow in Massachusetts this weekend which means I won't be enjoying gorgeous spring weather (sigh) but will have plenty of time to write! There should be a new chapter of Volition and Kindred posted this weekend! I'm so excited for what I have planned for the coming weeks! (I have been planting breadcrumbs through the whole series!)  
> Any who, thank you all for reading along! As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!


	7. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone get ready- FLUFF. SO MUCH FLUFF! Lol  
> The last few chapters of both fics have been pretty dark, but you all deserve some light! So enjoy!  
> Thank you all for following along! Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

I glare at Steve from the other side of the dining table, stirring my coffee. He eats his cereal uncomfortably. Yesterday morning had been completely different. Clint woke Natasha and I at six o’clock, banging on the door, trying to talk to Nat before he caught his flight home. Natasha had come back an hour later, visibly more relaxed than she was when she revealed their fight. Then, last night, Steve sent her and Sam on a mission. That left the two of us as the only Avengers on the compound.  
“This will be a very unpleasant few days if you spend the entire time glaring at me.”  
“You sent her on a mission,” I accuse.  
“That’s her job,” I bite my tongue, no matter how hard i want to speak up. Natasha would absolutely kill me if I said anything to Steve about her inability to say no. It was already close enough when I lost my temper last week. “She needed to go on a mission. She was going stir crazy.” He finally puts down his newspaper. “And I sent her with Sam. I’m not an idiot, Wanda.” I’m surprised by his tone and choice of words. They are extremely unlike him. “She isn’t doing well. And she won’t talk to someone, even Sam, in a normal setting. So, now she has the opportunity to open up in a setting she would be comfortable with. I am worried about Natasha too, okay? Now will you please stop thinking of different ways to kill me so I can enjoy my paper?”  
“I didn’t think you noticed or put that much thought into it.”  
“Of course I did, we’re partners.” He folds up his paper, clearly giving up on making it to the sport’s section. “Tomorrow I’m throwing the first pitch at the Yankee’s game; do you want to go?”  
“Is this an offer that I can’t refuse?”  
“I got that reference,” he smiles, “But yes.”  
“Is the PR team going to be okay with this?” I think of Maria saying that I should lay low for a while.  
“Easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission,” I raise my eyebrows at the very un-Captain America statement. “Nat taught me that.”  
“In what context?” I ask, curious. Neither of them are very open about their friendship.  
“She stole something from the Smithsonian for me,” A wistful and fond expression graces his face.  
“What was it?”  
“It was a picture of my mom and I at my First Communion. The Smithsonian somehow got a hold of it, a lot of my stuff. But that was the only photo of my mom and I the survived. So, she broke in and stole it,”  
“Wow,”  
“Yeah, best present I could have asked for.” He grows quiet and I realize that his disagreement with Nat is weighing heavier on him than I thought. Really, since we moved out of the compound, I haven’t spent much time with Steve. It has been mostly Nat and the Barton’s. It must get lonely here. “Well, it’s Friday. Don’t you have schoolwork?” He is ending our conversation. I nod.  
“I guess I should get on that. I will see you at dinner.”

I spend the day working on my history report and science homework. I manage to get both in on time, despite my low motivation. Around two-thirty, my phone starts to ring. Peter’s face pops up, it is a photo of him with Spiderman face-paint. I slide to unlock the phone and he is breathless, smiling hugely.  
“Wanda!” This is such a different reaction than I have received from anyone recently, that I am slightly taken aback. “You’ll never believe it!” His excitement is infectious, and I find myself grinning back.  
“What?”  
“I asked out MJ,” Ned appears on screen as well, corroborating Peter’s story. “She’s going to be my date to the wedding this weekend. Can you believe she said yes?”  
“Of course, she said yes!” I laugh. This feels achingly normal. It reminds me of the few short months I had at school last year.  
“She’s so out of your league, dude.”  
“I know,” Peter sighs. He looks to me and then back to Ned. “Hey man, give us a minute?”  
“Sure, no problem. Good to see you Wanda,” Peter’s best friend ducks out of the frame.  
“How are you doing? We miss you,”  
“Fine, I’m not in jail or dead. So, it could be worse,”  
“Everyone misses you at school,”  
“I find that doubtful.”  
“No really. Well, I only talk to a few people. So, everyone I have talked to misses you.”  
“Thanks Pete. I’ll see you and MJ this weekend.”  
“Can’t wait,” he goes to hang up, but pause, “And Wanda?” I look at him expectantly, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a good person,” He gives me another signature Peter Parker smile and hangs up.  
Dinner is spaghetti, basically the only food that Steve can make. He sets up table and chairs outside, claiming we need to eat ‘al fresco’ and enjoy the last of the summer weather. After dinner, I watch in fascination as he stands in the kitchen with a piece of paper, pulling the kettle and tea out.  
“What are you doing?” I ask, growing impatient. The tips of his ears turn red.  
“Nat left instructions for the night; in case you need anything.” In case I have a nightmare or wake up thinking that there are dead people in my room. “FRIDAY will let me know, I’m just down the hall.”  
In the morning, I step into the kitchen to see Steve in jeans and an Avenger’s baseball jersey.  
“Where’d you get that?”  
“Right after New York, we had a charity baseball game to raise money for those injured. Tony made us all jerseys,” he tosses me one. “Nat left hers here. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to get one for you.” I turn it around and see _Romanoff_ written across the back with the number eight. I pull it over my long-sleeved t-shirt.  
“I’ve never been to a professional baseball game before,” This launches Steve into a conversation that lasts most of the drive. A majority of it centers around the rivalry between the Red Sox and Yankees, along with how the Dodgers betrayed New York. He pulls the car up to a valet who is waiting for us, and asks to take a selfie with Steve, who happily obliges.  
“You know,” We are led into a side entrance, “when I first came out of the ice, Nat took me to a baseball game. I had only been out of the ice a few weeks. It was nice to see something that hadn’t changed much. We had pretty bad seats, I think she bought them last minute. It was before we were the Avengers, so no one recognized us. We had beer and hot dogs,” What he said finally hits me.  
“You knew Nat before the Avengers?”  
“We lived together,”  
“Wait, what?” I reel, trying to take that information in. They lived together? They were roommates? Before I can question him, we step into the concourse and I am hit with a thousand thoughts. I try to back up, back to the tunnel we came, but my leg locks up, not cooperating with the movement. Steve grabs my arm to steady me before I can land on my ass.  
“Are you okay?”  
“Loud,” I murmur, looking into the crowd. He frowns, looking out into the sea of people.  
“After I throw the pitch, we’ll go up to Tony’s box. It will be quiet there. Sound like a plan?” I nod, trying to block out the thoughts of everyone around me. It is mostly successful. I pull my sunglasses over my eyes to hide their faint red glow and he guides me through quickly and we end up next to the dugout. It is much quieter out on the field. I adjust my baseball cap, trying to give my hands something to do.  
“When we head up, the concourse will be mostly empty. This won’t take long, okay?” I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. I have to remove my hat for the national anthem and stand with my back pressed against the wall. Even then, there are thousands of people behind me. Hopefully, I remain unseen. I tug at my shorts, suddenly aware that my metal leg will probably give me away. Steve throws a perfect strike, landing right in the catcher’s mitt.  
We head up into the box after. He is right, it is blissfully quiet inside my head. I close my eyes, enjoying the effortless silence for a moment. When I open them, Steve is offering me a hotdog and a lemonade, before leading me out to the balcony.  
“This is much different than Cooper’s baseball game,” I watch the crowd below do the wave.  
“I used to come to games all the time as a kid. We’d get crackerjacks and drink coke. Bucky would,” he cuts himself off.  
“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t imagine how hard it is to know that he is out there but isn’t.”  
“What he did to Natasha,” his voice hitches, “Bucky would never do that. Whoever is out there, that isn’t Bucky.” I thought Bucky had only shot her. Granted it was twice, but in our field, it is hardly grounds for complete abandonment. _She was just a kid_. I wince at getting the thought in my head and dread the implication even more. Steve’s thoughts are much louder than Natasha’s, granted most people’s thoughts are. She is the most guarded person I have ever met. Taking what I know with what Steve just said, it is easy to understand why. It also makes the scar on her abdomen even more sickening. I cannot imagine why it hasn’t faded after nearly ten years, while other scars only last a few months at most.  
“It’s not your fault.” I offer. Though it sounds empty, as Steve will never believe me. No more than Natasha will ever believe that the things she has done are not her fault. Blame sits so heavily on both their shoulders; it is a miracle they don’t break. “Now, will you explain to me while that guy didn’t swing once, but managed to get on base?” Of course, I know the rules of baseball. But Steve’s face lights up once more as he begins to explain how an at-bat works.  
It is early Sunday afternoon when Nat and Sam stumble through the door. Natasha doesn’t have a scrape, but Sam looks like he flew into a weedwhacker.  
“I told him I had it handled,” Natasha explains to me, without really explaining anything at all.  
“You had ten guys on you!”  
“I know, it was nothing,” She tosses him a bottle of water and winks at me. Steve walks into the kitchen, apprehensive. We all seem to hold a collective breath. Nat gives him a small nod in greeting, which is the most they have interacted in weeks. The tension in the room dissipates slightly, and Natasha announces she is going to go take a shower. “I am completely covered with blood because someone couldn’t get there in time to help me,”  
“I swear to God,” Sam groans lightheartedly. Natasha pulls her long hair out of its ponytail. “You know she sliced three guys’ throats right in a row? Like slicing butter.”  
“Wasn’t this a recon mission?” I ask, my brows knitting together.  
“It was. Then we turned it into a whole operation.” Natasha offers one last smirk before disappearing into her suite.  
“So,” Steve begins.  
“Not talking about it with you, man. I’m going to go sleep for ten years.” Sam pulls himself out of the dinning chair and heads towards his suite.  
“I can’t wait to tell her about our baseball game,” I offer with a smile. Steve nods, obviously lost in thought. “Alright, well I am going to go Facetime Peter.” I pat him lightly on the shoulder, not quite sure how to comfort the super soldier.

* * *

I sit beside Nat in the Porsche. The cars pulls into an underground tunnel, heading out of Boston. We had arrived a few days ago for an adjustment on my leg with the prosthetists. Tony used to have him on retainer in New York, flying out practically every week. However, now we are down to once a month. As the wedding is in Newport, Natasha decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to also tour colleges, and save Michael, my prosthetist, a trip. The deans of each school conducted the private tours. Not that I have ever been, but it reminded me vaguely of going to a car dealership.  
Despite the drive being only ninety minutes, we pull off the highway at the halfway point. Just off the exit is a chrome boxcar diner.  
“Do you just know how to get everywhere and where everything is?”  
“I have every interstate highway map in America memorized,” she replies. I honestly didn’t expect her answer to be yes.  
“You know, I think you might be smarter than Tony,” She laughs and climbs out of the car.  
“Let’s not tell him that, I don’t think his ego could handle it,” We step into the restaurant and are brought over to a booth. No one seems to recognize us, and I relish the anonymity.  
I begin to page through the menu, looking at all the options. There are twelve different kinds of hamburgers.  
“What’s the difference between a frappe and a milkshake?”  
“Frappe has ice cream, it’s a New England thing,” She explains looking up briefly from her menu to check her phone, “Everyone should be arriving around the same time as us.”  
“Nat,”  
“Hmm?”  
“Are you okay?”  
“Yes, fine. Why?” My eyes drift momentarily to her throat and her finger stills. “You know, for tics in the Red Room, like drumming your fingers, they would rip out the nail of each offending finger.” Her voice is slightly far away, like she is starting to drift. I grab onto her hand and squeeze, offering a soft smile. She rarely shares anything from her time before the Avengers. “I’m okay. Really,” She straightens up, “The real important thing here is deciding if we want to split the onion rings or fries,”  
During our lunch, and the previous few days, I can tell she actually is doing better. Her eyes are brighter and she is joking again. I worry that she is faking it for my sake, but it can be nearly impossible to tell until it is too late. As we pull out of the restaurant’s parking lot, she turns on the radio and my stomach drops. However, she starts to do something I have only seen, and heard, occasionally when she is making breakfast or going through paperwork. She starts to sing along.  
“Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you,” The song ends and she turns back down the radio smiling at me, “If that doesn’t describe us and our boys, I don’t know what does.”  
I somehow manage to fall asleep during the remainder of the drive, as Natasha is gentle prodding me awake.  
“Wanda, we’re here,” I blink open my eyes and look at the large shingle style mansion before us. It will be our home for the weekend. The entire team, and wedding party, is staying here. We open up the front door and are met by hollers of hello. Lila grabs both of our hands, dragging us into the kitchen where everyone is gathered. Natasha hovers beside Clint for the afternoon. I realize with disappointment that Vision isn’t here yet. Not that I wanted to see him. But I wanted to see him. Amazing how the age of my boyfriend became irrelevant upon the world discovering that I am a war criminal and child soldier.  
I am surprised to learn that Peter’s aunt is a bridesmaid, I hadn’t known that she and Pepper were close. Rather selfishly, I wish she weren’t, as I know it will cause Nat to clam up when we are getting ready Saturday morning. Lila insists on teaching me how to throw flower petals. She had somehow managed to get fake ones for practice, and an adoring look from Pepper tells me where they came from. When she finishes off the basket of petals and begins to pick them up, I play with my magic. The rose petals swirls around her like leaves on a blustery fall day. She breaks into giggles as they float and twice around her. I see Nat eying me from her spot, she gives me a smile before redirecting her attention back to Clint and Rhodey.  
Professional chefs serve dinner. I look at the haddock with apprehension and decide to avoid it, opting instead for the sides.  
“You don’t like it?” Nat asks, looking at my clearly untouched plate of fish. “It will be okay; Pepper hounded the chefs. No cross contamination.” I nod and pick up my fork. I would very much like to not relive my most recent near-death experience. When I don’t find my throat closing after the first bite, I enjoy the meal. Tony tells the story of how he met Nat, once again regaling us with Nat kicking Happy’s ass. I also learn that she was there when they found Steve, but it took three months to figure out a way to defrost him. I am about to ask what happened during those three months, when Steve changes the subject, likely not wanting to talk about his time in the ice any longer.  
Peter and I take the kids down to the beach after dinner. Lila surges forward but pauses when Cooper drags her back. He looks over at me with a sympathetic smile and my chest burns in embarrassment. Though on even surfaces, I can now run and jump, sand is continuing to give me trouble and requires concentration.  
“You guys go ahead, Nate and I are going to take out time,” I look down at Nathaniel who is picking up every rock and presenting it to me for my approval.  
Cooper and Peter are sharing a room just as they did on the Fourth, much to Cooper’s thrill. It never ceases to amaze me that Cooper and Lila can go to school without blurting out every secret about the Avengers. Peter never seems to tire of the boy’s never-ending stream of questions.  
“Come on, kids. It’s time to get ready for bed,” Laura calls out. Their complaints are quickly silenced when their mother reminds them that tomorrow is the rehearsal dinner. Back in the house, Natasha is speaking quietly with Maria in the corner, while the rest of the group has also broken off into smaller groups. Much to my surprise, Clint and Steve are one of those pairings. I see Natasha glare at Clint from the other side of the room, moving her attention away from Maria. Clint seems to sense her and turns briefly. This silent conversation lasts only a second, but Natasha relaxes back into her conversation. I sit down next to Nat, as her and Maria discuss guns. For some reason, as I approached, I thought they would be talking about the wedding. But even as bridesmaids, it would be entirely uncharacteristic for both of them.  
The night begins to wear on and Avengers begin to trickle out, heading up to bed. Soon, the room is empty save for the three of us.  
“Where’s Bruce?” I ask Maria, as Natasha gets up to grab another glass of wine.  
“He had to go to a funeral with his girlfriend, her aunt died,” Betty Ross. Secretary Ross’s daughter. “She isn’t coming, don’t worry. And he’ll be here tomorrow.” Natasha comes back over and settles back into her seat. I begin to nod off on Natasha’s shoulder as it nears midnight. She nudges me gently and we head upstairs to bed.  
The room we are sharing overlooks the water, with two matching full-sized beds. At Pepper’s estate in the Hamptons, we can sleep with the windows open and listen to the waves thanks to FRIDAY’s integration, but here we don’t have that luxury. Natasha closes and locks all three, adding temporary alarms. The old floorboards creak underfoot as I head into the en-suite to get ready for bed. Natasha takes her turn afterwards, finally seeming satisfied with the security set up on the door. She goes into the bathroom and comes out a moment later with her lips pinched. I am about to ask her what is wrong when she pulls a fourth alarm system from her bag for the window in the bathroom.  
“Nat?” I ask into the dark room.  
“Yes?”  
“What do you think Tony got Pepper for a wedding gift?”  
“Oh, I know.”  
“You do?” I sit up in bed, looking over at her. In the dim moonlight, I can see her smile.  
“Of course. I gave my seal approval.”  
“What is it?”  
“No can do, you’ll find out Saturday like everyone else.” I throw myself back onto the pillows, sighing. “Always so dramatic,” she teases.  
“Can you give me a hint?”  
“Wanda?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Go to sleep,” I laugh softly, trying to suppress a yawn.  
“I love you, Mom.”  
“I love you too, Little Witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! So much fluff! But also a lot of questions raised! I'm not much of a fluff writer, which I am sure you know after 250k words lol  
> I was so tempted to end this is something bad, but alas, I have given our girls a much deserved rest.  
> Next chapter of Volition will be up tomorrow! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!!
> 
> (I am aware the Steve putting Nat on a mission with Sam for reasons other than saving the world (thought that was part of it) is unethical, Maybe not? Idk, but it is in character for him and his heart was in the right place)


	8. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay!! I have a nerve disorder in my dominant arm/hand, and it was acting up, so typing was difficult and took forever. (Don’t be like me, do your PT!!) However, my hand is back to cooperating, so here is the wedding chapter! To make up for the delay, it is almost twice the usual length of my chapters, so enjoy!! As always, your feedback is always welcome and appreciated!! Thank you!! :)

For the first time in weeks, Wanda sleeps through the night. The lack of seep was beginning to become obvious, dark circles forming around red rimmed eyes, but now, she looks peaceful. I head into the bathroom to shower, and when I step out, I encounter a very frustrated little witch.  
“Nat, can you please help?” It takes everything I have not to laugh. Wanda attempted to do some kind of braid, but instead ended up with a giant knot. “It’s not funny!”  
“I’m sorry, I just thought you’d have learned by now. I have been showing you for years,”  
“My skills don’t really go beyond a ponytail,” she huffs.  
“What are you going to do when you go to college?”  
“Nat,”  
“You’re going to college, Wanda.” I look at her through the mirror, “Please tell me you have been working on your applications.”  
“I don’t want to go. What is the point? I don’t need a degree to be an Avenger,”  
“Because someday you may decide you don’t want to be an Avenger anymore, and you’ll need a backup plan.”  
“Really? What’s your backup plan?”  
“I don’t have one. I can’t be anything else,” I finally finish detangling her hair, “But you can be,”  
“What would I even study?”  
“I don’t know. Political science, foreign language, European history?”  
“Or I could just keep on being an Avenger. Unless you think I can’t do it.”  
“I never said that. I have complete faith that you will be able to join the team again, but it is still good to have other options,”  
“Can we just focus on the wedding and not my education?”  
“I’m multitasking,” I tie off her braid and go over to my suitcase, pulling out my shoes. She leaves the room, grumbling and I take a deep breath. Dealing with Wanda’s sour mood was not on my list for today.  
I head into the kitchen and see the bridal party gathered around the table. Lila is climbing onto Wanda’s lap, while Laura is just leaving. Her belly is prominent under the stretched white t-shirt.  
“You’ve got Lila today?” She asks hopefully, “Nate is starting his terrible twos a few months early,”  
“I’ve got her, don’t worry. And I’m glad he’s living up to my name.” She rolls her eyes.  
“Auntie Nat!”  
“Duty calls,” I smile at Laura and pour myself a cup of coffee before plopping down between Wanda and Maria.  
Pepper has turned out to be the exact opposite of a bridezilla. This could most likely be attributed to the fact that she has been managing Tony for fifteen years. From my experience, anything else pales in comparison in terms of stress. Though there is no official maid of honor, Maria has taken on the duties. A color coded binder sits in the center of the table, and Maria is going over seating, the chart for which seems much bigger than a crowd of fifty. Lila climbs off Wanda’s lap, switching to mine. When I pull my attention away from Lila, I momentarily catch May’s eye, and smile.  
“I talked to the baker and he said he can bring sheet cakes for the increased number of guests. “And I took care of the table arrangements, they just need your approval,” I see the new circled headcount of one hundred and fifty. Wanda stiffens beside me, but her face gives no indication of being phased by the large crowd.  
Maria continues to go over the plans. Only the wedding party and a select handful of people will be allowed their cell phones. There will be armed security to give us a day off. She looks pointedly at me. This is so wildly different than the first Stark party I attended. Natalie, she was a good cover. I liked her a lot; she was like a better version of me. Perhaps, who I could have been if the Red Room had never happened.  
“You know, I had to convince Tony that he could not get married in his Iron Man suit? He only agreed because it was my _only_ request for this wedding. He claims that suit is what brought us together.” Pepper laughs, taking a sip of her coffee, “If anything, that suit is the reason we didn’t get married sooner.”  
After coffee and pastries, we head to a nearby hotel to use their spa and get our nails done. Lila chat incessantly the entire time, as this is her first time getting her nails done professionally. The poor nail technician. She looks to her coworker who has quiet Wanda, too shy to make small talk with a stranger.  
“Where are you going on your honeymoon?” I ask Pepper. This portion of the wedding has been kept under wraps.  
“Either Africa or Iceland, I don’t know which Tony chose. I left it up to him. If it were up to me, we would have had a wedding at the house. I think I have had enough of his parties to last a lifetime,” She flinches as the technician rubs her foot, ticklish.  
“Part of that is on me, sorry.”  
“Natasha, if I was still upset about that, I don’t think you’d be in my wedding.” Her expression lightens, “You’re also made up for it by being the best assistant I’ve ever had. I don’t think anyone will ever measure up.”  
“Pep, you are going to make a wonderful bride,”  
“I wish my family could be here,” she adds quietly. I nod sympathetically, unsure what I can offer as a comfort. “But we have all of you,”  
“Oh there is no getting rid of us.”  
The rehearsal dinner goes off without a hitch. Steve looked as though he was going to pass out when he had to hold my arm walking back down the aisle. Rhodes is serving as Tony’s best man, with Bruce and Peter as the other two groomsmen. Happy officiating was a sight to see. Wanda looked like she was about to bite Bruce’s head off and she winced when I called out to her, scolding her silently.  
That evening, I have my laptop open on my bed while Wanda showers, checking for any activity that the Avengers should jump on. Though Vision is monitoring everything at the tower, I still don’t feel completely at ease.  
“Nat,” Wanda hops out of the bathroom, a towel on her head. She looks as though she is about to ask me something when she spies my computer. “Are you working?” She accuses.  
“Just for a few minutes,” I defend, closing my laptop, “See? All done. No more work, scout’s honor.”  
“Yeah because there is no way that you will start working again as soon as I fall asleep.” She rolls her eyes, heading quickly across the room with her crutches.  
“What were you going to ask me before you noticed that I was working?” She frowns, pulling the towel off her head.  
“I overheard Pepper in the salon today,” She begins to work a comb through her hair, “What happened to her parents?”  
“When she was a freshman at boarding school, she was flying to meet her family on vacation. Her grandparents, parents, and siblings were all on a separate flight. The plane crashed and she didn’t find out until she arrived and there was no one at their vacation home besides her father’s brother, Morgan. Then he died right before she graduated college.”  
“That is terrible,” she becomes quiet.  
“The last thing Morgan did before he died was secure Pepper an internship at Stark Industries. Now, here we are, fifteen years later.” She seems deep in thought, no doubt thinking about the death of her own parents. “But let’s not think about anything sad right now, it’s a wedding,” I take the wet towel off her bed, bringing it back to the bathroom to hang up.  
We are not lucky enough to have two full nights of sleep in a row, or rather Wanda isn’t. I rarely, if ever, sleep through the night.  
“No one is here, it’s just you and me.” I soothe, rubbing her back. There is knock on the door, but Wanda is too distraught to notice. I go over and unlock it, seeing Sam in his pajamas.  
“Don’t worry, it’s not that loud. Me and Maria share a wall with you,” he explains quickly, “Do you have this?” I glance back over my shoulder.  
“Yeah, I’ve got it. Thanks, Sam,” He nods as I close the door, bringing my attention back to Wanda, who has her hands over her ears.  
“Why won’t they leave me alone?” She moans. I hold her tight in my arms as she cries.  
“It’s only us, we’re the only ones here.”  
“They are coming to take more marrow. Pietro said they are coming back! They came earlier, why are they coming back?” she sobs.  
“No one is coming. It’s okay, Little Witch,”  
“I can hear them, their thoughts are so loud. Why are they so loud?”  
“It isn’t real, Wanda. You’re safe. We’re in Newport, remember? For the wedding,”  
“Pepper and Tony’s wedding,” she replies, her tears slowing. “No one else is here?” She lifts her head warily, looking around the room.  
“Only us,” She manages to fall back into an uneasy sleep, while I sit in the land between, needing to be awake in case she needs me. After an hour, she becomes more relaxed and I am able to slip from her bed and back into mine.  
“I’m sorry for last night,” she murmurs, putting on her leg.  
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I squeeze her shoulder, “Everyone in this house has nightmares. They all get it. Okay?” She nods, clearly not happy with my answer. “Come on, I’ll even let you have a glass of champagne while we’re getting ready,”  
“Really?” She looks at my doubtfully.  
“Really, now come on. The car is going to be waiting downstairs to bring us over.”  
There is coffee waiting for us downstairs and we grab them while heading out the door where the car is waiting. Thankfully, Pepper is running later than us. Maria looks beyond relieved to see us, as she was left alone with Lila, who is bouncing up and down in the town car.  
“Wanda, this car has a fridge, a _fridge_.” She pulls it open. May and Pepper arrive moments after we are settled, heading over to the mansion.  
“This opulence makes Tony look like a slacker,” Wanda marvels as we head through the house.  
“You should see the Breakers Mansion, puts this one to shame,” Maria looks around, though equally impressed with the house.  
“Oh, don’t say that in front of Tony. The preservation society wouldn’t let him have the wedding there, no matter how much he offered. Apparently, he has a reputation,” Pepper rolls her eyes fondly, thinking of her soon-to-be-husband.  
In the bridal suite, there are matching silk bathrobes for all of us, even Lila, with our names embroidered. Stylists and makeup artists move quickly and efficiently. The room is filled with chatter and laughter as our look becomes more uniform. Wanda is finished right after Lila and joins her on the couch for a game of Uno. She is also trying to teach the little girl numbers in Sokovian. She meets my eyes across the room and I quickly sign to her.  
“Beautiful,” She blushes bright pink and goes back to her game with Lila.  
“She is wonderful,” I look over to May, who is in the chair next to me, “Peter talks about her all the time.”  
“Peter is pretty great too, he really looks out for her,” I offer in return. “You’ve raised an amazing son.”  
“Oh, I’m not,” May blushes.  
“Just take the compliment, May. They are rare coming from her,” Maria says from one seat over. Turn to glare at her before she can say anything else, much to my hairdresser’s annoyance as she turns my head straight once more. We are brought lunch a little while later, and have two and a half hours, everyone is done getting ready.  
“Miss Pepper, you look like a princess,” Lila stares in awe.  
“She’s right,” Maria agrees, “And a punctual one. Ceremony is in half an hour.” May carries her train as we head down the stairs. At two-thirty, we are all gathered for the outdoor ceremony. Lila greets Cooper excitedly, and twirls for Clint and Thor, who are serving as ushers. Music starts to play, and the kids head out first, followed by Maria. When Wanda walks through the doors, it leaves just Pepper and I.  
“Natasha, I’m getting married,” she stares at me with wide eyes.  
“I know, I’m so happy for you,”  
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing? Is it awful for me to think that?”  
“It is perfectly natural to get cold feet. You love Tony, and he loves you more than anything else in the world,”  
“I want this, I love him a lot.” I pull the veil over her face. “I can do this,” she tells herself.  
“Of course you can, you run a multibillion dollar company. You can handle a wedding, you’ve got this,” I turn around, “See you out there,” With a quick smile I step out the doors and into the gardens. I walk between the two rows of seats, keeping pace with the music. As I reach my spot beside Wanda, everyone rises, turning to see Pepper. She looked ethereal, floating down the aisle. I look to Tony and see he is crying.  
They give their vows. Tony’s including to never again buy Pepper spray or sell their modern art collection. Pepper’s vows are equally filled with inside jokes and stories.  
“And by the power invested in me by the state of Rhode Island,” Happy begins, “I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride,”

After the ceremony, the guests go for their cocktail hour on the patio while we pose for photos. The ocean laps behind us at the stone wall, and the air smells salty. It is dry and warm, a rare combination for September in New England.  
“You see, we couldn’t get married in a church, because they wouldn’t let Red in,” Tony teases.  
“Nat’s been to church,” Steve defends. Everyone turns to look at me, and I find myself uncharacteristically blushing.  
“When did you-?” Clint begins, trying to wrangle Lila at the same time.  
“No, you said you wanted to get married at the same church as JFK and Jackie O, but they wouldn’t allow it because we’re not Catholic,” Pepper interjects, saving me.  
The reception is grand in a gorgeous ballroom. I look nervously to Wanda, who sits beside me, but she seems unphased by the crowd, filtering them out with ease. Her eyes don’t even flicker. We share a table with the Barton’s, and as soon as dinner ends, they head to the dance floor. Peter is soon waving Wanda over to the high-top he has commandeered, standing with MJ and a boy who I believe is Harley Keener. She looks over to me.  
“Go, have fun. It’s a party,” I nudge her.  
“Will you be okay?”  
“Don’t worry about me, please enjoy. I am sure I can find some bartenders to harass,” She leaves, casting one last look my way, before joining the other teens. I am about to get up to do just as I said, when there is a tap on my shoulder.  
Steve stands behind me in his tux with a soft smile. I look around and realize we are practically the only ones not on the dance floor or at the dessert bar.  
“I know for a fact you’re a great dancer, why are you hiding over here?”  
“I don’t think I can perform _Swan Lake_ in three in heels,” I take a sip of my champagne. He offers his hand. “What?”  
“May I have this dance?”  
“I’m still mad at you,” I frown, another song starts, slower than the last.  
“How about, for the next three minutes, I’m not me, and you’re not you.”  
“Who do you want me to be, then?” I ask  
“How ‘bout a friend?”  
“I never stopped being your friend, Steve.” I take his hand and rise from my seat. He leads me to the dance floor, the slow song filling up the room. Steve twirls me around, and I am surprised by how graceful he is, not that I should be. He is always light on his feet in battle, I just never thought of it translating to a ballroom.  
“Romanoff, are you letting me lead?” he teases.  
“Don’t make me regret,” I bite back.  
“Wouldn’t dream of it,”

* * *

That Monday, Wanda and I step into Tony’s lab. Despite leaving for his honeymoon in a few hours, he continues to work. His wedding present to Pepper was a house on the other side of the lake. It is a quaint cabin, much different than their home in Malibu, and I think Pepper is smitten.  
“Okay,” Tony claps his hands together. Wanda looks over to me nervously. He presents the new leg to Wanda, who slides it on. I offer my arm to her as she rises from her chair, and she latches on. Her first step forward is tentative, unsure. She releases my arm, gaining confidence. Unlike other bionic legs, this one is silent, using similar technology as the Iron Man suit. The ankle and knee bend as she walks, her limp no longer so prevalent. Even with this great progress, her face is twisted in frustration.  
“Thank you, Tony.” She manages.  
“Is it too tight? Or too loose?” He offers.  
“I can’t feel it,” Tony looks to me, unsure what to say.  
“Wanda,”  
“It does what a leg is supposed to do, almost perfectly, but I can’t feel it,”  
“We can’t attach it to your nerve endings, they are too frayed. I consulted Helen about it,” Tony says apologetically. “We will keep trying though, we aren’t going to give up.” Wanda suddenly seems to realize she is being ungrateful.  
“Sorry, the leg is great, much better than the ones I have been using. Thank you, really.”  
“Let’s go try the stairs,” I offer, “You will be about to do step-over-step now,” She nods, still seemingly slight dejected. “Thank you, Tony; have fun on your honeymoon,”  
“Have fun,” Wanda echoes.  
  
“Time to get up,” I pull open the blackout curtains in her bedroom, flooding the space with light. Wanda pulls the blankets up over her head, groaning in frustration. It has been three days since she got her new leg, and she has been moping ever since.  
“Sleep,” she moans, pushing deeper under the covers.  
“Are you sick? You never spend this much time in bed,” I pull down the comforter and press the back of her hand to her forehead. She glares at me, “You don’t feel warm.”  
“You know I’m not sick,”  
“Then that means you can join me in the gym,”  
“What’s the point? Who would want me to save them? ‘Great got saved by the peg legged genocider’ No one wants that.”  
“Not a word, but that is beside the point. You are going to get up and meet me in the gym. This is not a negotiation. Then we are going to do schoolwork. I have a meeting with your teachers in a week about when you are going back.”  
“Nat!”  
“Because I’m feeling generous this morning, you have twenty minutes.” I nod to the cup of coffee I placed on the nightstand. “You’re going to need it.”  
A half hour later, she walk into the gym.  
“You’re late,”  
“Sorry, I didn’t want to come.” She retorts. I am about to scold her, but stop myself. Instead, handing her a hair elastic. “What are you making me do today?” she asks, pulling her hair back. I gesture to a rope ladder hanging from the ceiling and a singular piece of cordage hanging next to it. “No. Not going to happen,” she shakes her head, “Nope.”  
“Okay,” I shrug, sitting on the ground.  
“Wait, what?” She turns to me, “What are you doing?”  
“We are going to sit here until you agree to try it.”  
“Don’t you have other things to do?”  
“Of course, but instead we will sit here and look at each other.”  
“This is stupid and a waste of time.” She knows better than to try and leave though, having already been pushing her luck this morning. “Can I at least go get my phone?” I raise her eyebrows and she huffs, crossing her arms.  
After twenty-five minutes, Wanda start to get antsy. However, I am as still as can be. I once spent eighteen hours on a rooftop, not moving a muscle. We could be here all day. We are nearing forty-five minutes of just sitting here. It is almost ten o’clock.  
“Fine!” She stands up, irritated, “I’ll do the ropes,” She heads over to the single hanging rope first. I quickly stand up and drag over a mattress in case she falls.  
“You don’t have to go to the top, just as high as you feel comfortable, okay?” She ignores me, hauling herself up. She does this without her legs, using just her core and arms. I suppose her being in a wheelchair built up her upper body muscles. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me, Wanda. This is just to get you reacquainted.” She continues to ignore me, clearly determined to get to the top. It is some of her old fire reigniting. I watch in horror as she does indeed reach the rafters, only to let go. I dive forward to try and catch her, but she floats to the floor using her powers.  
“Were you trying to give me a heart attack?” I snap, my fear getting the better of me.  
“Sorry,” she does seem truly sorry.  
“Next time you want to pull a stunt like that, give me a heads up,”  
The rope ladder proves to be more difficult, as it requires her using her legs. But she quickly gets the hang of it, adjusting to the way the leg reacts.  
I barely see her for two days, only appearing for meals. Finally, on Saturday morning, she walks into the kitchen with fire burning in her eyes.  
“Okay, I’m ready.” Steve and I look up from our newspaper and tablet.  
“Ready for what?” Steve asks, looking to me, wondering if I know what my daughter is talking about.  
“To be tested for the field,”  
“Wanda,” I begin.  
“No, Nat I am ready. Trust me. You said a few weeks ago, if I can do the cross country trial and spar with Steve, then I can be back on the team.” Steve raises an eyebrow.  
“Okay, yes I did say that, but,”  
“So, I’m ready. I ran the trail yesterday,”  
“You what?” I interrupt.  
“And I sparred with you on Wednesday. And I have been training since July.”  
This is not how I thought my Saturday morning was going to go. I was thinking of taking Wanda to the farmer’s market in town. Maybe go to the movies.  
“If you aren’t ready, we don’t have to do this,” I tell her quietly.  
“Of course I have to do this. And I expect you to be impartial.” She glares.  
“I just want,”  
“Mom, stop. I’m doing this.” She bends down, her knee complying.  
“Fine, just please be careful, watch where you’re stepping, and,”  
“On your mark,” Steve cuts me off, met by a grateful smile from Wanda, “get set, go.” She breaks into a steady run. Not as fast as she used to be able to go, but at least the same speed as Sam or Clint. Steve and I watch from the monitors, the cameras stationed across the cross-country trail giving us a view of her run. “She’s doing well,” I nod, not wanting to take my eyes off the screen. She reached the hill and my heart stops, thinking off when she broke her leg. But she makes it up without a problem, barely slowing down. “You’ve done a good job, Nat.”  
“I barely did anything,”  
“You can’t be serious,” He shakes his head, “She went from being a scared kid on the helicarrier to being the most persevering person I have ever met.” He points to the screen, as she breaks into a sprint to jump over the stream. “You helped her become that person. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a good mom.”   
“Don’t get all sentimental on me, Rogers. We’re at work.” He huffs in pretend annoyance, leaning back in his chair. I watch the screen in horror as Wanda begins to fall. I jump up to run into the woods, but Steve pulls me back down as Wanda uses her powers to prop herself back up before she can hit the ground. The loop is almost complete.  
Wanda bursts through the end point of the trail, dripping with sweat and a huge smile on her face. Completely free and happy, something I haven’t seen since March. I have never seen her look so beautiful.  
“How did I do? I think I did good,” she looks to me, “I mean well. I think I did well. I know I almost fell back there, but I caught myself. It won’t happen again. How did I do? Did I beat Sam’s time? Did I pass?” Steve looks dumbfounded by the slew of words that just came out of her mouth. In the elation over the successful run, her timid shyness seemed to be forgotten. “I did pass, right?” Steve looks to me for my opinion, I give a small nod.  
“You passed, and tied Clint’s time.” Her smile grows, if that is even possible.  
“Now, all I have to do is spar you,” She says this as if sparring Captain America is a walk in the park.  
“We will do that after lunch,” In the distance, I see Happy’s car pull up and Peter climbing out. Wanda spots him too, racing ahead to greet her friend.  
“I don’t think I have ever heard her say so many words.”  
“I told you all she was a chatterbox, none of you believed me.”  
Peter joins us for lunch before heading down to the lab with Bruce. Wanda is regaling Peter with her successful run, while he starts telling her about his newest composition for web fluid.  
“How do you do it?” He asks, finishing off his third sandwich.  
“Right?” Wanda agrees, taking a sip of her coffee. Normally, I wouldn’t allow two cups in a day, but I’ll let it slide.  
“I’ve been talking to Maria, she said that we can return to our apartment in a few days, the fanfare seems to have died down.” I tell her.  
“That means you’re coming back to school, right?” Peter asks hopefully. Wanda’s smile slips.  
“We’re going to give it a few more weeks Pete. But she will be back before Thanksgiving.” I direct the latter sentence more towards Wanda, and she shoots me a dirty look. After going through an entire loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, Steve offers to clear the table.  
“We’ll spar in an hour?” He looks to Wanda, who nods. She heads straight to the gym. When I slip in ten minutes later, she is stretching out on the mats, her face screwed up on concentration.  
“Keep that up and your face will get stuck like that,” she blinks as my comment pulls her out of her head.  
“I’m nervous,”  
“He won’t hurt you. I’d kill him if he did.”  
“But what if I fail? Then what? Do I just give this up?” Her confidence from the run is draining, and I am starting to sense that her flippant attitude about sparring Steve was all bravado.  
“No. We train more, and we try again.”  
“But I’m not using my powers, I can’t beat Steve without them,”  
“Your goal isn’t to win, it’s to hold your own.”  
“But when you go up against Steve, you win sometimes.”  
“I’m also doped up on a serum,” I remind her, “And if you were using your powers, you could level us both at once.”  
By the time she is finished stretching out, Steve walks into the gym. Wanda stands up, her nerves evident.  
“You are going to kill it, I have complete faith in you,” I tell her. She shoots me a grateful smile, “That being said, no cheap shots.” They both step onto the mat. “I’m setting the timer for five minutes. Don’t break anything, or each other,” If Clint were here, he’d make some quip about no promises. “And your time starts, now,” I press the stopwatch.  
Wanda does something extremely out of character, diving in first. She moves like lightning, her hands jabbing between Steve’s ribs. She ducks and weaves under each punch heading her way, and I wince as one lands on her stomach. However, she quickly returns with an elbow to his jaw. If this were a real battle, Steve would have been down for the count within seconds. But Wanda continues to follow by the rules, no powers. Even when she starts to fall, she catches herself with her hands, not a blast of red. Steve hits her particularly hard and she flies back several feet. Before I can even run over to assist her, she is off the ground. She is sprinting towards Steve. It looks like she is about to go in for a right hook, but I recognize the move from my time sparring with her. Instead, she does a spinning kick, her metal leg colliding with Steve’s side.  
The clock buzzes just as Steve lets out a heavy _oof_ , gripping the spot. Wanda turns to look at me, and then back at Steve. I can see bruises forming on her arms already and know she will be sore tonight. But to her credit, Steve will be as well.  
“So?” She asks eagerly, not even giving herself a chance to catch her breath. Steve stands behind her, giving me a thumbs up.  
“Welcome back, Scarlet Witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!! Nat and Steve are friends again! Wanda's back on the team! Tony and Pepper are married! I wrote three chapters of fluff in a row! What is this world? Lol  
> It must be because quarantine is ending, the weather is gorgeous, school is out, and I'll be seeing my family for the first time since February!! Happy days everyone!!  
> Thank you all for following along!  
> I can't wait for you all to see what I have planned!!
> 
> **Also, somehow it has been 2 months since Welcome Home ended and 1 month since Lost?! Where does the time go?!**


	9. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So excited for you all to read this chapter! Sorry for all the typos in the last one, I went through and reread it, fixing everything. This chapter is back to my normal quality! Please enjoy!! As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!!

I sit in on the meeting, growing increasingly bored. I had forgotten this part of being an Avenger. Discussing policy changes around the world, different political agendas. Natasha has gotten into a lively debate about the annexation of Crimea with Tony, and I don’t think either have realized they are arguing the same side. Sam is playing finger football with Rhodey, while Steve tries to get everyone back on track. We had been discussing New Zealand, so it is a complete mystery as to how Russia became the topic at hand. Bruce walks into the conference room and looks at the display. Steve shrugs helplessly. Normally, Natasha is the one to rein the meetings in, but she is currently part of the chaos. She tends to get touchy when Russia is involved. I have a feeling Tony was trying to provoke her.  
“Natasha, will you stop letting Tony goad you and get back to the agenda?” Steve raises his voice above to the two yelling Avengers. Natasha shoots one final dirty look at Tony before moving onto the next point on her schedule.  
“Bruce, thank you for coming, since the next point is yours,” She looks pointedly at the doctor.  
“I just flew in from Virginia. Give me a break,” He goes over to the glass board, pulling up scientific equations and formulas on the board.  
“Is that?” Tony asks.  
“Yes, I have been searching for comparable properties for months,”  
“What are you two talking about?” Sam asks, crossing his arms.  
“The paralytic that was used on Capsicle,”  
“We haven’t found the source for that yet?” he looks over to Steve, who has become serious.   
“No. There were other, more pressing matters.” I feel the heat race to my cheeks. “The goal was to stop all those weapons from being distributed.”  
“Give me a few more weeks and I should be able to find the source,” Bruce confirms.  
“Me, Nat, and Sam are taking Wanda out on her first mission back tonight,” I perk up. This is news to me. Natasha looks less than pleased by the prospect.  
“Bruce and I are working on some new arrows for Barton. Rhodey, are you heading back down to DC?”  
“Yes, meeting with the President.” He rises from the table, “Always a pleasure, guys.”   
“Rogers, I need someone to test out my new weapons on, are you in?”  
“Don’t you mean with?” He laughs.  
“No, I don’t.” She deadpans, but then breaks into a smirk.   
“Oh, we are watching this,” Sam looks to me. “I’ll make the popcorn.”  
Sam actually does make popcorn and we sit on the observation bridge, watching Steve and Natasha stretch below. They are testing out the new weapon that she has been developing with Tony over the past few weeks. They are like her electric batons but click together to form a staff.  
“Did you know Nat was trained to fight with a staff?” I ask Sam, reaching into the popcorn bowl between us.  
“You know more about her than I do,” he looks down where the two have begun to circle each other. Both are in their stealth gear, and Natasha’s long hair has been put into two French plaits. She pulls the two batons off her back and they crackle with life. I trust that she has them turned down to stun, but it can be hard to know with her. She runs towards Steve suddenly and without warning. Her shift from being cautious to being on the offensive is dizzying. It is like she transformed into a completely different person. Cap seems equally confused as she battles him. He is on the defensive, protecting himself with the gauntlets on his forearm. When he goes in for a strike, Natasha quickly flips her batons inward and they click together, strong enough that Steve’s strike is blocked with little effort on her part.  
The fight continues, and we are out of popcorn, but neither Sam nor I want to miss a moment of this. It is rare for Steve and Nat to spar each other with weapons. They are two of the most dangerous people on the planet. Steve’s shield has since been removed from his back, and he uses it in the offensive. Both are fighting in the same aggressive manner. Finally, after Natasha had turned her staff into batons once more, they connect with Steve’s shield. The shock sends the two of them flying backwards, skidding across the mats.  
“Good job, Rogers. Glad to know these babies can hold up against a super soldier,” She rises from the ground, sliding the weapons back into the spot on her back.  
“Happy to be of service,” he pulls himself off the floor as well, “Sam, are you ready for a run?”  
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he mumbles, “Meet you out front in five!” he yells out, much louder. Though we Steve’s enhanced hearing, he probably heard both. I jump down off the bridge and float to the ground.  
“What in God’s name?” Steve gapes.  
“You like Wanda’s new trick? Scared the hell out of me too.” Natasha sighs.  
“So, you can fly now?” Sam calls from above.  
“Going down is easier than going up.”  
“We are going to have to do a test on your powers. Any other new abilities we should know about?”  
“Not that I can think of,”  
“Ability to avoid science homework seems to be one.”  
“How could I not watch you test out the new weapon?” I argue.  
“Schoolwork, now,” She leads me out of the room. “See you boys at six,”  
“Can’t we train instead?” I flop down on my bed.  
“Sit up,” she nudges my leg, sitting down beside me.  
“You’re all sweaty, get off,” I groan. She laughs, pulling me into a hug that I wriggle out of. “That’s gross,”  
“Do your science homework, and try to get a head start on the history project. You never know when a big mission is going to come up.”  
“I would rather train,” I keep my eyes focused on my hands.  
“What is with the sudden interest in being an Avenger again? Do you think it is going to get you out of going back to school? Because I promise you it’s not. If you don’t want to go back to Midtown, I am open to us touring some smaller, private schools.”  
“No, it’s not that,” I frown. “I have been thinking a lot, since everything was leaked. And I have decided I want to make up for my mistakes. Balance the scales,”  
“Wanda,”  
“It’s like you say, about red in your ledger. I need atone,”  
“No you don’t. You have,”  
“Nat, I love you, but that isn’t for you to decide.” I look over at her. “I’ve done a lot of terrible things. And I have the opportunity to do a lot of good, to use my powers for something bigger, something better.” I run my fingers along the edge of my duvet. “I am still going to apply to college, I’ve been working on my applications. But I don’t know if I will go. And that is my decision. It is my life, my past, my future.”  
“I just want you to be happy,” She gives me a soft smile.  
“I know,” I squeeze her hand, “You know what would make me really happy? If you got your sweaty body off my bed and took a shower,”  
“You are fresh,” Nat gives a light tug on my braid. “Do your homework!” She orders over her shoulder as she leaves the room.

At ten of six, Natasha and I are walking over to the quinjet. It is my first time in the new uniform, and I am amazed by the detailing. My new leg allows for me to wear boots on both feet. The shoe on the prosthetic had to be modified slightly, but if someone were to look at me, they would never know I am missing a limb.  
“If you aren’t ready, you don’t have to do this. You know, that right?”  
“Nat, I am fine. Relax.”  
The mission is extremely boring. Which is why I assume they selected it for my first one back. Sam and Steve secure the perimeter and stand guard, while Nat and I download information from some servers. We didn’t leave the East Coast, let alone the United States. The only benefit was that I was able to show off the hacking and coding skills I had been brushing up on. Natasha didn’t even have the chance to shoot anyone.  
“This was what you were worried about me doing? Really?” I raise my eyebrows.  
“It could have gone south. If anyone had been working late it would have been a problem. And you know how Americans are, such workaholics.”  
“Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black,” I snort.  
“Great English idiom, I’m impressed.”  
“You dropped a book of them on my desk two weeks ago,”  
“You needed to brush up,” We exit the building and meet back on the quinjet.  
“Think we can take this thing through the Taco Bell drive-thru?” Sam asks, volunteering to fly us home.

I walk into the kitchen in the morning to Natasha trying her hand at French toast. Her usual morning music of the Beatles filters in through the speakers on the ceiling. The gentle melody of _Let it Be_ is perfect for my pre-coffee haze. I know inevitably, I will be eating cereal, but for now, I watch, blear eyed, as she places a piece of egg-soaked bread on the frying pan. A more upbeat song comes on, and Natasha sways her hips as she whisks the eggs. Sam and Steve walk in soon after. It is likely that Bruce and Tony will not be up for hours. When we came home late last night, both were still working in the lab.  
“How did a Russian assassin come to like a band about peace and love?” Sam asks, pouring himself a mug.  
“Just because I was made for war doesn’t mean I enjoy it,” Natasha looks up, her face filled with emotion. It is such a rare moment that we all pause. However, her neutral mask instantly slides back into place. The song _Blackbird_ comes on and Natasha quickly asks Friday to go to the next song, as she does every time it comes on. Sam and Steve looks to each other, but neither mention it. Her good mood had clearly been killed as soon as Sam asked that question, though it is not his fault. But he really should just stop asking her anything, ever.  
“Nat, I’ve got this. You made pancakes yesterday,” Steve nudges Natasha’s shoulder. That seems to be the extent of physical affection anyone else on the team is allowed to show her, even Clint. I think I saw Laura give her a hug once or twice. She acquiesces, allowing Steve to take over. I am grateful that we have all likely avoided a round of food poisoning, though Steve is barely a better cook.  
Nat makes herself a protein shake and rather than using milk, uses black coffee. I watch with an almost morbid curiosity, but she is smiling to herself, obviously pleased with the idea. It seems to bring her out of the funk she was slipping into.  
“What on Earth are you doing?” Steve asks.  
“Peak efficiency,” She smirks, downing the thing in one go. I gag at the thought of it. “I think Tony will be upset he didn’t think of the idea first.”  
“What didn’t I think of?” He joins us in the kitchen, half asleep.  
“Natasha made a protein shake and used black coffee instead of milk,” Sam explains.  
“She’s right, I am upset I didn’t think of that first.” He agrees. Natasha makes him one, handing over the dark, sludgy liquid.  
“Wait, why are you here? Isn’t Pepper on the other side of the lake?” Nat asks.  
“She’s in California for a meeting, coming back tonight.” He takes a sip, “This disgusting,” He then proceeds to finish the drink.  
“Necessity is the mother of invention,”  
“Really putting the book to good use,” Natasha teases, “Come on, let’s go train.”

The first week of October flies by, and we spend Columbus Day Weekend at the Barton farm, celebrating Cooper’s birthday a few weeks early. Clint flies back with us Monday evening, promising to be back in time for Cooper’s actual birthday in two weeks. This has become Clint’s pattern recently. Two weeks on, two weeks off.  
With Steve in Washington D.C. visiting Peggy, Sam on a mission in an undisclosed location, and everyone else in their respective permanent residences, we are the only ones on the compound. Wednesday, however, Nat and I will be returning to our apartment in the city. I could not be more excited.  
“How did you manage to buy both Boardwalk and Park Place so quickly?” Clint groans, glaring at Nat.  
“Can’t we play something else? Nat always wins,” I agree. Her phone starts to ring a moment later and she heads out of the room. Clint proceeds to steal a few thousand dollars from the bank. I glare at him. He shrugs.  
“Old habits die hard.”  
“Suit up, we’ve got a mission,” she stalks back into the room.  
“Wait like a real actual mission? Or data recon?” I look up from my Reading Railroad card.  
“We’re leaving for the airport in twenty.”  
I sit between her and Clint in busines class on our flight to Cleveland. Sam has the quinjet and Tony’s plane is in the shop.  
“How do you not have TSA precheck?” Natasha scolds Clint once more.  
“We always fly private, why would I make an appointment for that?”  
“When we get back, you’re going. I don’t care if you have to wait six hours. Because we just waited three to get through security.”  
“Have you even talked to him yet?”  
“Stop changing the subject,” she hisses, turning straight ahead.  
“Tell who what?” I ask, looking between them both.  
“Nat hasn’t told Cap that she can’t say no to missions.”  
“Isn’t that up to her?”  
“No. It shouldn’t be. She could be putting her life in danger. Like right now. Are you feeling okay? Did you want to go on this mission? Why isn’t Steve meeting us there?”  
“Because Peggy is in the hospital, Clint.” Natasha says quietly, “Now, if you two will unlock your tablets and stop talking about our personal lives in public, you will see the mission parameters.”  
“I didn’t say anything,”  
“Wanda,” she warns. I pout but unlock the device, reading through our mission.  
I sit in the backseat, leaning onto the center console of our rented SUV. We had changed out of civilian clothing and into our uniforms. Natasha had gone to the bathroom in the airport and returned with guns. Neither Clint, nor I, questioned her. Though the idea that she keeps guns at every international airport is the least surprising revelation I have come across in a while.  
“You happen to have a bow for me?”  
“You’re on extraction,” she looks over from the passenger seat. “You get a glock and the opportunity to eat fast food without Laura finding out.”   
“So, these guys are manufacturing bombs?”  
“Yes, we have three recorded uses in the past two weeks. They’ve set up shop in an old paint factory. We enter with extreme caution, do you understand?” She turns to look at me.  
“Don’t worry, I’m ready.”  
“You didn’t used to be this much of a helicopter parent on missions, Nat.”  
“Well the last time I wasn’t, she lost her leg,” she snaps at her best friend. I lean back into the seat, biting my cheeks.  
“Natasha, you don’t have to worry. I’m ready. And I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”  
“How about no risks? The only reason you are coming is that no one else is available. This is too big of a mission for your second one back.”  
“Technically, I think my first one back was when I killed thirty people at once.”  
“Yeah, Wanda, I’m on your side right now, but you’re making it really hard,” Clint looks at me through the rearview mirror.  
“Nat, I’m going to be alright. Okay?” She stays silent.  
Clint drops us off a mile away from the property and we begin our walk. The gate to the grounds is locked. And though the chain is rusty and old, the lock itself is shiny and new.  
“Looks like we’re in the right place. I can try and undo the lock,” I had never tried using my powers to pick a lock before, but it is definitely a possibility that I wished had occurred to me before now.  
“That is something we will work on back at the compound. Good idea, Little Witch.” However, she leads us away from the front gate, walking the perimeter instead. It is in the southwest corner the I see a bit of the fencing collapsed. It would have been easy enough to scale the fence, or to fly over it, but Natasha seems to want to go unnoticed for as long as possible.  
“We don’t know much about these guys,”  
“No. We don’t. They came out of nowhere, and we can’t connect them to any other terrorist cells. And no organizations have claimed responsibilities for their crimes. A group that doesn’t want recognition is dangerous. They have no pride or ego, just a goal.” She moves like a cat, graceful and silent. Beside her, I feel like a bumbling buffoon. “It is a clever place to set up a bomb factory. Assuming they are from the area, they would have familiarity with the place. Most likely trespassing at some point and saw the abandoned vats and machinery. It must not be as decrepit on the inside as the out,” she nods to the crumbling brick building that has come into view. “This used to be a manufacturing plant for lead and oil-based paints. A lot of the chemicals were likely still here when they set up shop.”  
We reach the back of the building where an industrial door is propped open with an old paint can. There is a turned over crate surrounded by cigarette butts. The inside of the factory is massive and coated with a dark dust. A strong chemical smell lingers in the air, and I resist the urge to cough.  
“Stay with me,” she signs, and then puts a finger to her lips. We scour the first floor and I see footprints in the dust. Someone was here recently. A few of the drums have been cleaned and have a dark liquid pooling around the base. A rat runs across my foot, and Natasha has a hand over my mouth before I can squeal. Other corners of the first floor have seen less care recently, as nature has come to reclaim it. Weeds have begun to crack the cement floor, and vines have broken through one of the windows, wrapping itself around the metal frame.  
We begin to make our way up the iron staircase leading to the second floor, careful to avoid spots of rust and decay. Natasha glances back frequently, ensuring that I am still right behind her. This floor has seen a lot more use. A card table has been set up; lunch abandoned on top. A still frozen Slurpee sits prominently next to a bag of Doritos. The second floor is open to down below, and I am able to see the city skyline in the distance. I look back towards Natasha and the second floor. There is a wall before us with doors. She seems hesitant to approach. In fact, she is deadly still. She doesn’t even appear to be breathing. Everything is calm and still.  
Suddenly, with lightning speed, she spins around and shoves me. The top of the rotting barrier breaking under my weight. I feel my balance teeter as I go over the railing.  
As I fall, all I can see is her fiery red hair.


	10. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay! I rewrote this chapter so many times trying to get it right. Still not 100% on it, but I worked really hard, so I hope you enjoy! As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!

The world is on fire before I hit the ground.

When I was a child, I used to play a game with my father.   
“Would you love me,” I’d ask, “If I was fifteen feet tall?”  
He’d say “Of course,”   
“What if I had fangs like a dog, or claws like a cat?”  
“I’d still love you.”   
“What if I fought with Pietro?”  
“I’d still love you, but I would make you apologize.”   
“What if I failed my math test?”  
“I would still love you, my dear.”   
These were the concerns of a child. I never got to ask him the real questions. What if I was made into a monster? Or killed a man? Killed a dozen men? Purposely hurt people? Had vengeance in my soul? Would you still love me? Would you risk your life for me? Would you die for me? How far does a parent’s love go?

* * *

Time seems to have slowed down. Natasha is running away from the edge of the platform as my feet slip off the floor. I hear a rapid succession of gunshots and then an explosion. All I can see is fire roaring over my head. At the last moment, I remember to use my powers, cushioning my fall. They do so just barely. My back hits the concrete with surprising force, and the wind is knocked out of me. As I try to breathe, each intake is like shards of glass filling my lungs. I don’t know if it is from broken ribs or the toxic smoke filling the factory.   
I push myself up by my elbows and wince in pain. The initial explosion from upstairs has died back, and thick black plumes begins to curl through the air. Before I can stand up, a burning figure comes running off the platform above. Screams fill the factory floor. I watch in horror as he falls, writhing in the air. He hits the ground with a crack, but meets no mercy, as his dying whines echo in my ears. With a twitch of my fingers, I put him out of his misery.   
Natasha. I have to find Natasha. How did she know a bomb was going to go off? She saved my life by pushing me off the platform. Why didn’t she jump? _Because she was going to try and stop it._ Always a hero, no matter the cost. Whatever it takes. Except when it comes to my life. If she hadn’t taken the time to push me, could she have stopped them from detonating the bomb?   
I stand up and my body aches in protest. She is still up there. Nat wouldn’t leave me in this place. If she were able, she would already be down here, helping me off the ground. She’d have already called Clint, complaining about getting the soot out of her hair. But she isn’t dead. She can’t be dead.   
There is a large crack running up my new leg, and I can feel it growing with each step as the prosthetic loses stability. I shift to put my weight on my left side as I make my way up the stairs.   
The building’s temperature continues to rise and sweat pools on my lower back. The stench of burning flesh and chemicals fills the air. I can only imagine what I am breathing in. There is a large creak and I look up in horror.  
A beam begins to fall from the roof. I throw my hands above my head and toss it, screaming in pain as my ribs shift. The metal clatters below. Tears prickle at my eyes. But I can’t. Not until I find her.   
“Natasha?” I call out, but my voice breaks off into hacking coughs. “Nat!” I try again, rubbing my eyes, trying to peer through the haze. My foot catches on something and I fall to the ground. I turn over and push back quickly, seeing the charred remains of a body. That can’t be Nat. That isn’t her. She wouldn’t leave me. She promised she wouldn’t leave me. I can’t give up. I have to find her. She’s too stubborn to die. The Black Widow tells off death and he listens.   
I want my mom. Tears are flowing down my cheeks as the fire rages around me. I can’t stay here. Find her and get out. The possibility of finding Nat alive is dimming with each moment that I sit here crying like a child. I am the daughter of Black Widow. I am Scarlet Witch. With a groan, I pull myself off the ground. Through the shifting smoke, I spot a flash of pale skin.  
Natasha is crouched on the ground, her back pressed against the wall. I get closer, and see she seems relatively unharmed. Her suit is singed and torn, and she has minor burns, but nothing major. But her eyes are wide in fear. No. Terror. In all that we have gone through, I have never seen her look so afraid.   
“Nat,” Her eyes remain fixed on the fire behind me. I grab her arm, trying to pull her up, but with a broken leg and ribs, this is going to be an impossible task. The fire is getting closer and growing quickly, threatening to overtake even the size of the initial explosion. I look and see the rotting stairs have fallen away, hit when I threw the beam. There is a window nearby, but our opportunity to escape is getting narrower. “Natasha, please. We have to go. Please, I know you’re in there.” She doesn’t react and we are out of time. I bite my cheek so hard that my mouth fills with blood, “I’m sorry.” I raise my hand to her temple and with a wave of my fingers, red tendrils spread. Her eyes begin to glow, and she rises from the ground.   
I grab her hand and drag her behind me. Her mind, unsurprisingly, is proving difficult to control. I hit the window with a pulse and act quickly, knowing the surge of oxygen will fuel the fire. I pull Natasha into my arms and jump, throwing ourselves out the window. Flames lick at our heels.   
I cushion our fall as we tumble through the dirt. We are not given even a moment to rest as I throw up a forcefield around us. Bricks and flaming debris flies through the air as the remaining bombs explode. Finally, it is silent. I drop the shield, trying to process the fact that we have survived. The smell of burning skin lingers in the air.   
I look over to Natasha and see her face is completely blank. She doesn’t move, staring of at something I can’t see. Her eyes are glassy and distant, and the synthetic fabric of her suit seems to have melted to her skin in some places, while burning in others. Whatever the cause for the state she is in, she won’t be able to help. Help we desperately need. Where is Clint?   
I reach for my ear to call him, but my com had been lost. After a quick check, I know Natasha’s is gone as well. There is a crash in the distance and I force myself off the ground. Natasha can’t protect herself right now, protect us. My hands pulse as a black SUV skids in front of us, spraying dirt and gravel.   
“Woah, Wanda, it’s me. It’s Clint, I’m not going to hurt you,” He walks towards me, hands in the air. I nod, letting my powers fade. My thoughts feel slow and thick from lack of oxygen. “Any life-threatening injuries?” I shake my head but step to the side.  
He runs to Natasha. She doesn’t react. He pushes singed hair away from her face and picks her up gently. When Clint turns around with her in his arms, I am surprised to see he is crying. I get the passenger door and he places her into her seat.   
“You’re okay Nat, you’re going to be okay. I promise,” He turns back to me, wiping the tears from his face.   
“There is an old SHIELD safe house a half hour from here. Are you okay?” I nod, not meeting his eyes. “What is it?”  
“I don’t know what happened. She went still and then pushed me, then there was explosion, and a burning man. Fire and bodies,”   
“They didn’t read as suicide bombers.” He shakes his head. I limp towards the car and climb into the backseat. Blood drips into my eye. I reach up and touch my forehead, my hand pulls away bloody. I can’t even begin to wonder when that happened. “I just texted Cap, he is going to meet us at the house,”   
“Why Steve? He doesn’t have a quinjet. We should call Sam or see if Tony can commandeer a jet.” Not to mention that they have only just begun talking again.   
“He is borrowing Hill and Fury’s,” That still doesn’t answer my question. I highly doubt Nat would want Steve to see her like this.  
We pull up to a small ranch style home that has obviously been neglected. The green paint is peeling, the porch sagging. I climb out of the car and watch as Clint pulls a birdhouse off a tree, dumping out its contents. I wince as a nest and eggs fall to the ground. He pulls a house key from the pile and unlocks the front door. I follow inside after he grabs Natasha and places her on an old plaid couch.   
“It’s okay, Nat. You’re okay. I promise, everything is going to be okay,” He leaves the room and returns a moment later with a first aid kit. Rather than starting on Natasha, he motions for me to sit down. I wince in pain as he sterilizes the cut on my forehead, and he quickly sews it shut. “What else?”  
“I think I broke some ribs.”   
“That will have to wait until we get to D.C.” He brings his attention back to Natasha now that my face is no longer covered in blood. He gives her a shot for the pain she must be in, despite the lack of reaction. There is the familiar whirring of a quinjet.   
Clint instructs me to wait here while he goes outside to greet Steve. I hold Natasha’s uninjured hand in mine, squeezing tightly. Hers remain limp.   
The front door opens, and I turn to see two of my team members. Steve nods in hello but does no more to acknowledge me.   
“Nat, I’m going to pick you up, okay?” He does so gently and carries her out of the safe-house. Natasha, normally so opposed to being touched or helped, lets Steve move her like a doll. Clint helps me and I look down at my mangled prosthetic. I can feel my bottom lip begin to tremble.   
We do a three-legged race to the jet. An oxygen mask has been placed over Natasha’s mouth, and one is handed to me as well. Clint goes over to the pilot’s seat, and I am shocked by his willingness to leave Natasha.   
“What happened? Why is she like this?” I pull down the mask, glaring at Steve. He seems nearly as upset as Clint.   
“She never told you?” His brow wrinkles in confusion.   
“Told me what?” Before he can answer, his phone starts to ring.   
“It’s Bruce, I have to take this.” I settle down into the seat next to Natasha. Her mouth moves silently. Though I can’t tell if she is mouthing nyet or not yet. Neither have great implications. Steve returns five minutes later, and at this point we are about to land. Steve and Clint have switched, and her best friend rejoins us.   
“You’re okay. I promise. I love you, Nat. I know you’re in pain, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,”   
“You weren’t there. It isn’t your fault.” I look over at him. “She pushed me over the railing. I could have thrown up a forcefield around us when the bomb went off. Protected us.”  
“Have you ever tested it with fire?” Clint asks wearily.   
“No, but,”  
“Then Nat wouldn’t have allowed you to take that risk.” The jet lands and the gangplank drops. Natasha is transferred to a gurney, any efforts to unzip her suit are for naught, the fabric melted to her.  
A doctor wraps my ribs. I broke three in my fall and sprained my wrist. Clint helps me into a wheelchair, my injuries leaving me unable to use crutches, and my leg broken beyond repair.   
Steve is in the waiting room with Maria. Both are grim faced. Panic begins to build in my chest.   
“Is she dying? Was I too late? Did she breathe in too much smoke?” Oh my God. I killed her. I failed. This is all my fault.   
“She is alive, she’s in surgery.” Maria assures me quickly. “I’m going to call Pepper and let her know what happened.”   
“What did happen?” I demand, looking at the two of them.   
“Wanda,”  
“No! Why did she freeze up like that? I’ve never seen her do that on a mission. Even when she is bleeding out or has a concussion. She had shrapnel in her back and was fine. She is barely even injured,”   
“We thought she would have told you,” Clint interrupts quietly. “The candles, fireplace,”  
“She’s normally such a master of compartmentalizing on missions. I think her suit burning just,” Steve trails off. “Tony promise it was fireproof,”  
“Everyone else in that explosion is dead, I’d say the suit is pretty fireproof.” I huff. “Now tell me what the hell is going on.”   
“She almost died.” Clint’s eyes are watery once more. Natasha almost dies every week. It’s not easy on any of us, but he never cries over it. “It was right after she finished working for Tony. Someone put a hit out on her. We never found out who, but it was for a lot of money. $150 million. She was on a smaller highway outside of D.C. Someone rammed into her car, it rolled. If she hadn’t had a hardtop, or if the roof had been down,” Clint takes a deep breath. That doesn’t explain this. That was a car accident. We had been through worse in the past six months let alone two years. “She was stuck in the car. Her left side was pinned by crushed metal. She couldn’t move her head, her braid trapped her face up against the car door, against the tar. Then the car caught on fire.” Clint is crying harder, I can’t remember ever seeing him cry.  
I look to Steve, he is staring at his handles, his jaw clenched so tight, his teeth could crack. Clint continues.   
“Maria and I found her, she’d managed to send a distress signal before the car caught fire, we think. The timeline gets fuzzy, even with traffic cameras. I had just been about to head back to the farm. When we got there, the fire department had managed to put out the car fire, but she,” he looks up at the ceiling, “Her skin was blackened and burned, her whole right side and most of her left. Her left arm and left side of her face were the only things not burned. And her hair, so ironic, hair that looks like fire,” he laughs without a trace of humor. It is bitter. Angry. “Fire department told us she was dead, no one could survive that. But she was alive. Nat was conscious for every agonizing moment, watching herself burn alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this chapter! Next one will be out soon!
> 
> Did you catch any of my hints? I’ve been dropping breadcrumbs since I wrote Silenced!


	11. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I am back from visiting my family and should be back to my frequent posting schedule!  
> Hope you are all enjoying the beautiful May weather wherever you are!  
> Just a warning, this chapter is pretty dark. I tried to be as medically accurate as possible, but I work in finance lol  
> Any inaccuracies can be blamed on Wanda’s unreliable narration 😉  
> Anyways, I have worked extremely hard on this one for days, much longer than usual, I hope you enjoy!  
> As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated! Your comments really do inspire me to push out updates faster!!  
> (Speaking of updates, the most dreaded chapter of Volition has been posted. Sorry in advance!)  
> 

I stare at Clint, my mouth agape. How could she survive that? How could she be okay> What does that do to a person? In my head, I can see the traitor that the militia burned in my city when I was eleven. They tied him to a stake, and it took a half hour for the man to lose consciousness, to stop screaming. It is the worst possible way I can imagine dying.  
“Wanda, can you tell us what happened?”  
“She burned alive,” I wring my hands, “How could she go on missions with a fear of fire? How could you let her?”  
“She is a master of compartmentalizing and repressing,” Steve replies with an emotion I can’t decipher, whether it be grief, anger, or bitterness. Perhaps it is all three. “We avoided fire as much as possible outside of the field. She refused to see a therapist,” Clint cuts Steve off.  
“I know you are worried about Nat, but like Steve said, we need to know what happened in there.”  
I tell them everything. My ribs shift in pain with each deep breath, but they know better than to offer me anything stronger than Advil. Steve sends a text, presumably to the rest of the team to go to the site.  
“How much longer is she going to be in surgery?” I look towards the marked doors, the ones we’re not allowed to pass.  
“I’ll go check,” Clint offers, standing up. He is obviously feeling just as useless as me. “I should give Laura a call too,”  
This leaves me alone with Steve. Though we aren’t truly alone. The waiting room is filled with families. All are too distraught to notice Avengers in their midst. But right now, we aren’t superheroes. We are people waiting to hear a loved one’s fate, just like them. I look over to my captain. He has looked pale since he came to pick us up. Then I remember, Peggy is in the hospital too, probably this one. But he is here, comforting me, rather than sitting with her.  
“If you need to be with Peggy,” I begin.  
“No. She has her family with her right now, and she’s stable. I’ve got to be with mine.” Despite not being one for physical affection, Steve wraps an arm around my shoulders. I am dwarfed in the super soldier’s embrace.  
I think of how he looked at Nat when they danced at the wedding, like she was all the stars in the universe. A manifestation of stardust standing before him.  
Clint walks back into the waiting room, looking more like himself. His eyes have dried, and he holds a tray of three coffees.  
“We’re looking at another hour or so. Maybe two.” He settles down into his seat, sandwiching me between the two of them. I am very possibly the safest girl in the world.  
“Wanda, wake up,” Clint nudges me gently. I lift my head off his shoulder, that I had somehow shifted onto, though I don’t remember falling asleep. He nods to the doors and I see Bruce walking through, StarkPad in hand.  
He peels off his cap and paper gown, looking haggard, but manages a weak smile. A tension I didn’t realize I had been holding releases in relief.  
“She’s in her room now. The surgery went well. Dr. Fine and I were able to get the suit off, but her skin had started to heal around the parts that were melted. We should be able to move her to the compound tomorrow.” He hesitates, his eyes dancing from Steve and Clint to me.  
“I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well say it,” I snap.  
“It looked as though she may have cut herself trying to dive for safety, there was a portion of her suit that melted into the wound. We had to scrape her bone. She is going to be in a lot of pain,” I feel nauseous. “But she is going to be okay. No life-threatening injuries. She should be healed in a week or two.”  
“Can we see her?” I ask, finding my voice. Bruce nods. Clint helps me into the wheelchair, careful with my ribs. Hopefully, I will be fine in two weeks as well. Then we can go back to missions. Go to Tony’s Halloween benefit. Go to the UN General assembly meeting that we are supposed to attend in November. Everything is going to be fine.  
When we go into her room, everything is far from fine. I do little to mask my emotions as I stare at my mother. She is covered in white gauze. IVs poke out from her arms and collar bone. Her eyes are closed, and I hope she is asleep. Without pain or nightmares.  
“It looks worse than it is. There are a lot of minor wounds and we have her hooked up to antibiotics for possible infection. But she’s okay, Wanda. Really. Her forearms and legs took the brunt of it. She must have been against a wall or something.” I nod, not really listening. She’s not intubated, she doesn’t have a catheter. It can’t be that bad. She has been worse. We have been through worse.

* * *

Tony greets us at the compound, uncharacteristically serious. There are no sarcastic quips or biting remarks.  
“Hey, kid. I have your new leg; this is one is a lot stronger. Stayed up all night making it,” he smiles weakly.  
“Go ‘head, I’ll stay with Nat and let know you know if there are any changes,” Clint offers reassuringly.  
Tony pushes my chair to his lab and offers me the leg. It is matte black, and there seem to be more joints in the ankle.  
“The coating should protect, not that it should break again. But it is a reinforcement.”  
“Thank you,” I murmur, looking down at the leg. He nods and sets to work on fitting it to my stump.  
Tony and I finish making adjustment when I hear an awful guttural scream. It is like no sound I have ever heard before, primal and bloodcurdling. But it is unmistakably Natasha.  
I run down the hall, ignoring the pain radiating from my sides. I stumble into her bedroom, where I see Natasha has finally woken up. Her eyes are wide in fear, darting around the room. She has managed to hit both Clint and Bruce, who are trying to calm her down.  
“Nat, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he tries to soothe. “We’re in the compound, you’re safe.” She pulls her legs to her chest. The screaming subsides into a whimper, before dying off completely. “Steve, will you take Wanda out of here? Nat seeing her upset will only make things worse,” I open my mouth to argue with his cold words, but a second glance at Natasha makes me think otherwise.  
Steve leads me out of Natasha’s room and to the kitchen. He puts two Advil and a bottle of water in front of me as he rummages through the fridge.  
“I want to go back in and see her,”  
“In a little bit. Let’s wait for her to get settled.” He turns around with a block of cheese and a loaf of bread. “Grilled cheese?” He waits for answer, “Well I’m making a few for myself, you might as well have one too.” The familiar sound of butter sizzling on a frying pan is the only noise for a moment. “You know, when I was a kid, bread didn’t come pre-sliced. Can you believe we had to cut a loaf every time we wanted a piece of toast or a sandwich?”  
“Steve, normally I enjoy hearing about your childhood,” I say earnestly, “But right now, I couldn’t care less,”  
“I know,” he sighs and hands me the first sandwich. It is cut in half diagonally, rather than Natasha’s fourths. For some reason, it makes me want to cry. He makes himself three sandwiches on the extra-large frying pan and stands across from me at the island. I take a bite of my sandwich and play mindlessly with the owl salt and pepper shakers on the counter. It is impossible to figure out who bought them- Clint or Tony. “Do you want to hear how Nat and I met?” He asks suddenly. “It was a few days after I was dethawed. Fury flew with me from New York, after the Times Square incident, and brought me to the Triskelion. I guess you never saw it, it was,”  
“The old SHIELD headquarters,” I finish for him, getting up to rinse off my plate before loading it in the dishwasher.  
“Yeah,” I open up the fridge and pour him an iced tea, grabbing one for myself. It is tempting to retreat to my room, and to be alone, but then my mind will wander. And with Natasha so close I could cause more harm. “Fury brought me to an empty conference room, big enough for thirty people. And he left me there for almost two hours. It was some kind of test. When he opened the door, he brought in Natasha. She was angry and out of breath, giving Fury the glare, you know the one,” I smile, because I do. It is so her, no one else has a look quite like it. Alone, it could take down lesser men. I play with the straw in my tea, waiting for him to continue. “And she was covered in burn scars.” I look up at him in surprise. “It had been three months since her attempted assassination, and she couldn’t go in the field. She was different, we both were.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Fury assigned her to assimilate me to the new world, or as she once so gracefully put it, she was a ‘glorified nanny’.” A fond smile plays onto his face. “She’s the strongest person I know. Not many people would be able to go back into the field, hell, get into a car, after what she went through. I have faith in few things anymore,” he adds wistfully, “But Natasha is one of them.”

I sleep on Natasha’s couch, ignoring Bruce when he said that it wouldn’t be good for my ribs. With some persistent coaching, or rather nagging, from Clint, Natasha drank some broth and water. In the morning, I wake up stiffly and see Nat is awake, having not moved an inch since I laid down. Outside her room, I can hear a whispered argument getting increasingly louder in the hall.  
“We need to get psych here, Clint.” Bruce says with resignation.  
“We are not putting them anywhere near her,” he hisses back. I know if I can hear them, then if Natasha is present, she can too.  
“Hi Nat,” I sit up on the couch, sliding on my leg. Her eyes remain glued to the blank gray wall. At some point, all her pictures disappeared. They must be in an album at the apartment. “I am going to type up the mission report today,” I offer. “I was thinking of doing it in Korean. I almost have it mastered, two months ahead of schedule. It would also drive Steve crazy, don’t you think? Does he know Korean?” I carry on, trying to drown out the disagreement outside her bedroom door.  
_This is just like when you normally talk to Nat. She doesn’t say much anyways_. But no. It is different. I get subtle nods or smiles. Right now, I am getting nothing in return. I persist, beginning to talk about my Halloween costume.  
“Vision and I were going to go as Casper and Wendy. Peter said we should do Cosmo and Wanda, but I don’t know who they are. I guess they are cartoon fairies? I think he only recommended it before because he wanted to make a couple joke. I don’t know who I will be now for Halloween. I feel like being a witch is a little too on the nose. Halloween is supposed to be the day where you are something you aren’t. Maybe I’ll be unenhanced. Or a pirate. I already have the peg leg,” The door to her room opens. Clint is hovering, neither in nor out. I have a distinct feeling he just lost to Bruce.  
“Nat, psych is coming. They need to evaluate you in order to give you lorazepam,”  
“What do you mean?” I stand up from my chair, glaring at Clint.  
“It will help bring her out of this state,”  
“She just slips away sometimes. You know that.”  
“Wanda, it has been more than twelve hours. And it isn’t my call.” He seems genuinely sorry. Natasha hasn’t reacted once during our conversation, and in the past, she has not exactly made her feelings about psychiatrists a secret.  
“Can’t Sam do it?”   
“He’s a psychologist, he can’t prescribe medication.” I bite my cheek.  
“She won’t want this,”  
“I know,” he settles down onto the couch.  
“I can use my magic,” I look over at her, “Bring her out. Or relax her.”  
“No.” Clint’s voice is firm, sounding much more like a senior member of the team. I jut out my chin and replant myself in the chair next to her bed. They will have to drag me out.  
A half hour later, after two cups of coffee and a bowl of tasteless cereal, the doctor arrives. I look to Natasha, still trapped in her head. I desperately want to go in and pull her out or talk to her. But not without her permission. Never again.  
The doctor steps into the room and begins to make her way towards Natasha. She doesn’t wear a lab coat, but khakis and a button down. She appears to be a middle-class soccer mom. As nonthreatening for Nat as possible. Nevertheless, as she approaches, I begin to feel my powers pulse.  
“Wanda, do you need to be removed?” Clint warns.  
“I’d like to see you try,”  
“I would prefer both of you leave,” the doctor states.  
“That won’t happen,” Bruce sighs.  
“I saw her nightmare,” I beg Clint, “The fish tank, please,” Clint’s jaw twitches.  
“Let the doctor do her job.” I drop my shield in defeat.  
The doctor conducts her exam with a placid Natasha. It is like an oxymoron. She heads out of the room with Bruce to discuss results.  
“I’m sorry, Nat. I’m so sorry.” Clint brushes her hair out of her face. “I know, I promised. I promised never again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I step out of the room, feeling like I am intruding on a personal moment. More of the team has come to the compound since last night, all gathered in the common room. Natasha would be horrified. They are all speaking quietly, like how one does at a funeral. I hate it. I want them all to leave. Now, they are staring at me. Pepper gets up from the couch and I run, slamming my bedroom door.  
My anger begins to build in my chest, threatening to explode. I can’t breathe, I can’t think. There is banging on my bedroom door, I open my eyes that I hadn’t realized I had closed. The door swings open and Sam runs in. I look at my room. A tornado has swept through. Everything is turned upside down or broken. A cool breeze comes in from the shattered window.  
“Wanda, it’s okay. No one is in danger, we’re at the compound.”  
“I know we’re at the compound! I’m not stupid,” I snap.  
“No one said that,” he continues carefully. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I see Clint’s name flash on the screen. Quickly, I rush out of the room and back into Natasha’s.  
“What was going on in there?”  
“Lost my temper,” I scuff my shoe, “But you saved me from an emergency session with Sam.”  
“Looks like I shouldn’t have texted you,” He glances out the window. My dresser and mattress are on the lawn.  
“I was redecorating. Outdoor living is very in right now.” I lie down beside Natasha.  
“Wanda, I don’t think,” Clint begins. I note the bruise on his cheekbone from Nat hitting him last night.  
“She won’t hurt me.” I tell him confidently. I squeeze her uninjured hand, taking it in mine.  
For the next twelve hours, they periodically increase the dosage of her meds. I lie next to her, turning on the TV and turning her to face it.  
“I guess we can watch one of your shows,” I curl my lip in mock disgust, turning on a legal drama. “You know, a legal comedy, that would be gold. We should work on that. Tony has enough money. He could get it made for us. But some of that money would have to go to renovating my room. Or reconstructing.” I bite my thumbnail, “I’m sorry I lost my temper. It hasn’t been, um, that _explosive_ , for a while. I’m trying. I promise I’m trying.” I think, for a moment, I feel her hand twitch in mine.  
Unsurprisingly, I fell asleep during her TV show. Thankfully, Netflix kept the queue going. Someone else came in here when I was asleep. Her favorite books are on her bedside table, and next to me is a fresh bottle of water.  
Two days trickle by with negligible notes of improvement. The only sign she can hear us, is when I wake up from a nightmare and her eyes flicker over to me, just for a moment, before losing focus once more.  
This is noticeably different than when she normally slips. Then, she is trapped in her mind. Now, she is trapped in her body. Bruce tried to explain it to me as the third fear response. After flight and fight, comes freeze.  
“This is your fault!” Clint yells from the common area. I step out of my recently restored bedroom, my hair still dripping from my quick shower, my plans to run back to Nat momentarily halted. Clint, many inches shorter than Steve, has him cowering. “You sent her on this stupid mission,”  
“We didn’t know they would themselves up. It didn’t fit the profile!”  
“Who the hell made the damn profile? You?”  
“Nat did,” he replies quietly, “We were supposed to both go, but then Peggy,”  
“Always about Peggy, isn’t it,” Clint snaps. “Peggy or Bucky. Can’t let go of the past.”  
“I’m sorry, I should have been there. I know. If I had been there instead,”  
“Instead of me?” I interrupt, blinking back tears.  
“Wanda,”  
“You were going to say that if you had been there instead of me, that none of this would have happened. If she hadn’t taken those few seconds to save me. If I had super hearing like you two, then you could have stopped it.”  
“That isn’t what I meant,” I see a memory flash through his mind. Him protecting her under his shield, a bomb going off.  
“Wanda, missions go wrong. Bad things happen that are out of our control. Sometimes it isn’t anyone’s fault.”  
“You seem to think it was his,” I gesture to Steve. “But this time it was clearly mine.” I feel myself getting worked up again. I try to take deep breaths, but they come in ragged gasps. Calm down. Calm down.  
“Hey,”  
“This is my fault! Like it is always my fault! I hurt her, it is what I do over and over,” A hand lands on my shoulder and disappears just as quickly. I blink and see Clint pushed back against the wall. My mouth moves, unable to form words. I hurt him. What is wrong with me? I am a constant force of destruction and pain. Steve turns to me, his eyes soft. No. I’ve caused enough problems, enough pain.  
So, like mother like daughter, I run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this chapter!!  
> Any comments at all are greatly appreciated!!   
> I have plenty planned for Nat, but not a ton set in stone for Wanda. So if there is anything you would like to see, please let me know!! I have some old favorite tropes that I haven't used that I can lean on, but I am always open to hearing what you all want to read!!  
> Thank you!!  
> (Also next chapter will be Nat POV!!)


	12. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning for self harm**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!  
> Sorry for the delay! With quarantine ending, I have an obligation to be social again lol  
> And I wanted to make sure I had an accurate portrayal of catatonia from the point of view of the person experiencing it. I found many different first person accounts that vary greatly and did a ton of research for this chapter. It is really dark, as this is where Natasha is right now. But there are bits of sunlight. I hope you all enjoy!  
> Thank you for following along and for your comments!!

For a long time, the world had swirled around me, and I remained an impassive observer. Wanda sat beside me, chatting. Bruce came in and changed my bandages. Clint held a photo album from our early days. There are few photos from the first year, I had still been cautious of having my picture taken, even for a private collection. Steve discusses mission parameters and plans. What happened with the group who had manufactured the bomb. If they were part of something bigger. They weren’t. But none of this has any weight, any meaning.  
Until a woman in khakis comes in. She’s from psych, they say. And I know that should be getting a rouse out of me. That I should be panicking. Instead, I remain unmoving, unemotional. I am hooked up to an IV, or rather another IV. Clint is crying, again, beside me. Apologizing. A few hours later, things shift. I become annoyed by their presence. Bruce operates with clinical detachment, as if I am a patient, or perhaps a damaged robot, and nothing more. Clint is horribly emotional, and I find great discomfort in it. Nor do I understand it, and perhaps that is the root of the frustration. Steve is extremely awkward, and his visits taper off quickly. Though during his last, he seemed upset but tried hard to hide it. Wanda, however, provides a source of solace. She is chatty and affable. Amazingly enough, after days of nonstop one-sided-conversation, she is yet to run out of topics. My struggle to focus on her words is enough to silence my own. When there is a lull, I feel the panic begin to increase once more. The fire. The explosion. Almost getting Wanda killed due to my own ineptitude. Being trapped in my own body.  
The indifference prior to the drug is completely gone. Now, I am fully aware that my body is not cooperating. I have never had it betray me. My mind, more times than I can count. But never my body. And pain. So much pain. I wish I could tell them to increase the dosage on the painkillers, as it is just barely a drop in the bucket. Apparently, I am not just a coward, but weak as well.  
Bruce had increased my dosage of the lorazepam once more, and I can already feel it taking effect. Everything seems more present, like the world is no longer on fast forward while I am on pause. But then Wanda left to take a shower. She had queued up Netflix before she left, putting on a legal drama. I wanted to tell her that I would prefer to watch one of her sitcoms. I had grown to like them; they remind me of her. She said she would be gone for a half hour, tops, and then she would be back to continue with the book we were reading, _Blink_ by Malcolm Gladwell. But the third episode of my show has ended. At forty-two minutes an episode, that is just over two hours.  
What if she fell in the shower? She once mentioned that the shower at home was easier to use. Someone needs to check on her. Or if she got kidnapped. Or if they sent her on a mission. They can’t have sent her on a mission, right? A surge of unwelcome thoughts continue to deluge me. I want to scream, Cry. I want everything to stop. But my mind won’t let me. Logically, I know she is fine, but the possibility that she isn’t is a few percentage points too high. I just want to turn it all off, detach. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want nothingness. I wish they would sedate me.  
I think of the explosion of powers she had a few days ago. My fault. She was upset because of me. And I couldn’t even talk her down. Failure. She should be back by now. Was she giving up on me? Have I lost track of time, and it has been longer than a few days? Have I been stuck like this for weeks? I’ve lost bits of time before, but that was different. Does she not want me anymore? Not that I would blame her. This isn’t the Black Widow. A hero. I am a broken version of who I used to be. No, broken is too kind of a word. Broken things can be fixed. I’m shattered. Ruined. Destroyed.  
I hear my bedroom door open, but immediately recognize Clint’s balanced steps and Steve’s light ones, nearly silent. Almost as good as me. Almost. But Wanda’s uneven gait doesn’t accompany them.  
“Hey, Nat,” Clint begins, sitting down in front of me. Steve hovers behind him. Both radiate nervous energies. Something happened to her.  
“We need to ask you a question, and we don’t want you to freak out. Okay?”   
“She’s listening to us, right?”  
“Bruce said she can hear everything we’re saying. And we can’t not tell her,”  
“Wanda is missing,” Clint says carefully. No, no, no. What do they mean she is missing?  
A broken whine escapes me, the first sound I have been able to make in days. It is pathetic. Anger begins to build up. This is all my fault. Incompetent. Useless. Worthless. There are thousands of people in this world who want to see her hurt, or worse.  
“Shit, Nat, I’m sorry,” He rubs the back of his neck,  
“Nat, do you know where Wanda would go?” I can think of a dozen places to check.  
“We didn’t mean to,” This was their fault? What did they do to her? Clint’s movements are stiff. No.  
Suddenly Steve is pinning my arms to my side. The bandages have been ripped off. My new, tender skin is torn and bloody. A welt has begun to form on Steve’s neck, and my nails are dug deep into his arms.  
“We’re going to find her,” No. Last time, I found her, and you didn’t even believe she was there. I struggle in his grasp, trying to get free. I gasp for air, “Nat, calm down. It’s okay. She couldn’t have gone far,” She could have gone anywhere in the world. Gone far. Bullshit.  
“We checked the entire compound, your apartment, JFK, the Tower, Peter’s, and the campground,” Clint offers. “Tony volunteered to drive to that town in Connecticut you guys go to.” Steve releases my arms slowly as I stop struggling, though it doesn’t seem to be on my own accord. “Do you know where she would go? She disabled tracking on her car?” I trained her too well. Yes, I know where she is. Of course I do. She is my daughter. My favorite person.  
“What are you two doing?” Bruce’s heavy steps fill the room.  
“Wanda ran away,” Clint explains.  
“You guys have to lay off,” He comes over, inspecting my torn skin. Wit ha sigh, he goes into my bathroom and emerges with new bandages and salve.  
“She wants to find her daughter,”  
“I would have preferred you not work her up,” Bruce snaps. Wow. Not patronizing at all. “She was starting to improve.” He pauses, “Natasha, stop, I am trying to stop your wounds from getting infected.” I hadn’t realized I was resisting. “Natasha,” He tries again, before finishing with a frustrated sigh, “Wanda wouldn’t have left at all if it weren’t for you two fighting,”  
“Nat, do you know where Wanda is?” Yes, and I can do nothing to protect her. What kind of parent fails to protect their child so frequently? “Just yes or no, please,”  
“Out, both of you. This conversation can be had in the hall.” The three of them leave the room to discuss my daughter, and likely me as well. But I am left out of the conversation.

Netflix timed out hours ago, based on the amount of light streaming into the room. No one has come in to turn it back on, leaving me with my thoughts, and nothing else to focus on. My ability to turn off is gone. I shouldn’t be surprised, my mind betraying me once again. I have no control. None. I am practically an object. A statue. A weapon. The last bit of sun for the day meets my eyes, and yelling begins to reverberate into my bedroom. The voices aren’t loud enough to make out, just enough to know they are there. What are they discussing? Did they find her? Is she okay? Is she alive? Is there a ransom? I promised to protect her from the world. I failed. My bedroom door opens, and I recognize the uneven steps.  
Hi Mom,” She settles down in the chair next to my bed, blocking the blinding sun. She has been crying. Her eyes are bloodshot, her neck red and blotchy. “I’m sorry,” She takes her hand in mine. Her words are soft, hesitant, “I think I get it now, why you run. Ran. Why you ran.” Her voice cracks, “Everything feels overwhelming, like it is spiraling out of control, like _you’re_ losing control. That you could hurt the people around you more by staying than leaving.” She squeezes my hand. I squeeze back. She tries, and fails, to choke back her cry of relief. “I went to the Yellow House,” I know, Little Witch. “It was foreclosed on. I picked the lock and went inside. It wasn’t the same. I don’t know why, but I always thought the inside would look that same as it had in my head.” She stops talking for a moment, searching for her words, “I fell asleep on the floor of the room that was mine. I hadn’t meant to be gone for so long, just enough to compose myself. To make sure I wouldn’t hurt you.” She was concerned about hurting me? No. “I thoroughly look forward to you grounding me for running away.” She laughs humorlessly, and it morphs into a sob. “I’m sorry, Mom. This is all my fault. If you hadn’t taken the time to,” Wait. No. She can’t think this is her fault. No. This is mine. I am compromised. No. “then none of this would have happened. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”  
I look at her, tears are streaming down her face. I pull my hand from her grasp and wipe away her tears, my hand shaking.  
“Nat?” Her eyes close, head slightly bowed, “I’ve missed you,” She presses my hand to her cheek. I stare at her, hoping I am conveying some kind of emotion. “How are you feeling? Do you want to get up? I can make some tea, or a sandwich? Or some coffee? Water?” She peppers me with questions. “I’ll grab Steve and Clint, you can’t put weight on your leg, and I can’t hep you up right now.” Why can’t she help me up? What happened? I look down at her leg, and it seems fine. “Broken ribs, I’ll be fine in a week or two. Don’t worry.” She has been injured and I have just been sitting here. Useless. “I’ll be right back,” She flashes me a smile, running out of the room.

* * *

  
I continue to come back to myself over the next few days. Wanda is yet to run out of things to talk about, something that never ceases to amaze me.  
“Peter said he was sending me a very important email. He sent it to my Avenger’s account, not even my school one. You know what it was? The entire script to the _Bee Movie_. He was here a few days ago, but he’s back in Queens now.” She moves the wrong way, wincing, as I imagine her ribs shift. “I have to go submit an assignment for school but I’ll be back in a little bit,” She leaves my room, only for Clint to walk in.  
“Hey Nat,” My eyes meet his briefly. “Want to watch a movie with me? I was thinking a _Die-Hard_ marathon,” I nod my head. He reaches to help me out of the chair by the window and the sleeves of my sweat ride up. My bare arms catch my eye. The bandages have been removed, revealing burn scars in various stages of healing. “Natasha, breathe. You’re going to make yourself pass out. Come on, deep breaths.” Fire. Burning. Wanda. I left her to die in that building. The smoke filling the air. Cowering against the wall. Diving to hide as the fire rushed out. Back pressed against the wall. Covering my face with my arms, legs tucked in. Leg is bleeding. Caught on broken metal during my dive to safety. Wanda. I almost got Wanda killed. The smell of burning skin. My skin. “You’re safe now, Nat. You’re okay.” I gasp for air, choking. “Deep breaths. We’re safe, okay?” Wanda, where’s Wanda? Fire. I pushed her. Keep Wanda safe. Only thing that can get in the way of the mission. “It’s okay, everything is okay. We’re at the compound. Wanda’s doing homework. We’re in your bedroom.” I open my eyes and look around the room, he’s right. He sits beside me on the couch, our shoulders touching. “Everything is going to be okay,”

Wanda pulls me down to the gym at a snail’s pace as I limp. My thoughts are cloudy with painkillers that I had finally asked for. Everyone was upset with me for not telling them sooner. Steve slammed a door so hard the glass shattered. Clint just looked at me with the same watery eyes I had begun to get used to. She goes over to the cabinet and unlocks it with her powers, and hands me my favorite set of throwing knives.  
“Okay,” She claps her hands together. I stare at the rolled-up sleeve in my hands. “Sorry, I thought this would cheer you up, it usually does. And the pill bottle said no heavy machinery, but your knives are as light as a feather.” She unfurls the case and six knives slide out, glowing red. They fly forward with lethal accuracy, forming a perfect circle around the bullseye. Even Clint would not be able to do a similar trick with his arrows.  
“That was impressive. Let’s see what else you can do,” She smiles brightly, this is the longest string of words I have said in hours.  
We work on velocity until she can send knives at the same speed as I throw them, then increase steadily until she is sending three at once.  
After the impromptu training session, I sit at the kitchen counter while she chugs a bottle of water. She sets a cup of tea and my antibiotics in front of me. No child should have to worry about or take care of their mother like this. Shame burns my ears.  
“I love you, Little Witch,”  
“I love you too,” She smiles halfheartedly, but it drops. “Your thoughts have been loud.” I focus on my tea, wondering just how much she has heard. It is undoubtedly from the painkillers. “Nat, if you need help for just a few days, it isn’t destroying our relationship. I promise.” She sits down next to me, “You have spent two years taking care of me, let me have two weeks to return the favor.” She pulls me into a gentle hug. “You’re my favorite person, always.” When she lets go, she takes a deep breath, seeming to forget about her ribs, and grabs her side. After a moment, she composes herself. “Steve asked me not to tell you but,” Steve, who has been missing from the compound for two days, “Peggy died. The funeral is tomorrow.” _Oh no_. His last tether to his old life, besides Bucky. Bucky who isn’t Bucky, but the Winter Soldier. He can’t lose Peggy. “I thought it was wrong to not tell you. He didn’t want you doing something stupid, like driving down there.” She looks at me, dejected, “You’re going to do something stupid, huh?”  
“He shouldn’t be alone.” I reply. “I’ll leave in the morning.”  
“I’m not lying to Clint for you, you’re going to have to be the one to tell him,” She huffs, taking my empty mug. She begins to talk about our dinner plans, Tony and Pepper are coming over from across the lake, but my thoughts continue to wander to Steve.

I arrive in the parking lot just as the service is ending, climbing out of my car. There is a surprising chill in the air, and I pull my black trench coat tighter. Sam is easy to spot, talking with Sharon as they head to their cars to go to the cemetery. I had spoken to him on the phone just a few minutes ago. He and Sharon don’t see me, nor does anyone else. Steve is noticeably absent.  
The stone steps of the church are slick with wet leaves from the fading shower. I walk into the building, trying not to limp. I regret wearing heeled boots. Stained glass windows filter in the light, and dust floats in the air like gold. But the cavernous room is empty, save for Steve standing by the alter, staring at a portrait of Peggy. He has his back to me, head bowed. For the first time in decades, my steps give me away.  
“Nat?” Steve turns to face me.  
“Sam said I’d find you here. You’re not going to the cemetery,” It is more of a statement than a question.  
“Didn’t want to cause a scene. This day isn’t about me.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “What’re you doing here?”  
“I didn’t want you to be alone,” There is a bang of some kind outside, and I find myself flinching.  
“Nat,” I push through the thoughts in my head telling me to run. It was a car backfiring. I’m okay. I’m okay. I force my shoulders to release their tension.  
“I’m sorry Steve, I know what she meant to you,”  
“When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone. Then I found out she was alive. I was just lucky to have her.” There is a touch of a wistful smile, more bitter than anything.  
“She had you back too,” I didn’t think it was possible, but in this moment, Steve looks small. Vulnerable. “Come here,” I pull him into a hug. If he is as surprised by my action as I am, he makes no move to show it, instead melting into my embrace.  
“She’s gone,”  
“I know,” I murmur.  
We take my car to a nearby diner in our old neighborhood. I had found it for Steve when he first got out of the ice, it looks forever stuck in another era. It was an attempt to give him a taste of home in a modern world. As a twenty-four-hour restaurant, I could frequently find him here in the middle of the night, when the nightmares got to be too much. We take our usual booth without discussion, the one in the back of the restaurant, right near the emergency exit. Our old waitress is gone, the new one is young and flippant, dropping off our menus and waters without much of a glance. After ordering our food, we sit in comfortable silence for a while, both likely reliving memories.  
“During my little hiatus, after everything that happened with SHIELD, I went back to Russia to find my parents,”  
“Did you?” He looks at me in surprise. I hadn’t told him this. I hadn’t even told Clint.  
“Two little gravestones by a chain link fence.” I tsk, thinking of how I ruined my own fantasy of them having a happy life. They had died when I was two years old. With some digging, I discovered that they were two scientists who got on the KGB’s radar in a bad way. “I pulled some weeds, left some flowers.” I poke at my pie, “We have what we have when we have it,”  
“Do I have you?” He asks honestly. Because he’s always honest.  
“Yeah, Steve. You do.” We slip back into silence, listening to the patrons of the restaurant laugh and chat. The happy banter is so far removed from where we are now, from where we have been.  
“If I ask you a question, would you tell me the truth?” I shrug, taking a sip of my coffee.  
“How would you know if I was lying?”  
“I guess I wouldn’t.”  
“Then you’d just have to trust me,” I give him a wistful smile. He nods, taking this to heart.  
“I trust you.”  
“What is it that you want to know, Rogers?”  
“Why are you here?”  
“I know what its like, to lose the last tie to your old life.” It feels like floating, like you have nothing left to tether you to this world. It makes you angry, like the world has no right to be this cruel. But you see, that isn’t the bad part. The bad part is, this isn’t the world being cruel. This is the world being just and fair. Having time move on, you’re just not moving with it. “You shouldn’t have to go through that alone.” I think of seeing Yelena’s body in the snow, falling from the tree. Feeling weightless in the worst way possible.  
“You’re a lot better than when I left,” he looks up from his burger, “I was scared I was going to lose you too,”  
“You won’t. I promise.”  
The waitress drops off the bill, and I go to stop her from leaving, so I can hand her my credit card, but stop short. I grip the edge of the table as a wave of pain travels from the wound on my leg. White spots dot my vision and I try to keep down my lunch.  
“Are you okay?”  
“Mhm,” I nod, closing my eyes, waiting for the pain to subside. When I open them once more, I am dizzy, and my mouth is dry. I glance down briefly at my flared tan pants, expecting to see spots of blood. But they remain spotless.  
“You drove here,” he looks at me.  
“Obviously, we just rode in my car.” I take a sip of my water, catching my breath.  
“So, you’re not taking your painkillers,” he says slowly.  
“Well done, Sherlock.” I lean back against the seat. The waitress comes back over, and Steve hands her a fifty before I can take out my card. “I was going to pay,”  
“Nat,”  
“I’m fine, just wasn’t expecting it,”  
“You put yourself through hell,”  
“Didn’t want you to be alone,” I reiterate. “Can’t drive on those meds,”  
“I don’t want you suffering for my sake,”  
“Your pain is worse than mine right now. Physical pain, its nothing. We both know that.” Physical pain goes away much quicker. The wound heals. The serum takes care of that. But mental anguish, it sometimes can feel everlasting.  
“Give me your purse,” I frown, handing it over. He fishes through, and amused smile breaking through at one point, probably at seeing the hoard of weapons, but produces a small orange pill bottle, putting it on the table in front of me, serious once more.  
“I can’t drive if I take that, and I have to get home to Wanda. Clint is heading home tonight,”   
“I’m driving,”  
“You are not driving my car,” I look out the window at my Porsche. She shines in the afternoon sun.  
“Natasha, you are in pain, and I am heading home anyways. I would rather be in your car than on a crowded airplane.”  
“But,”  
“Please, let me do this.” The thought of driving right now is exhausting, having to push through the pain that threatens to overwhelm me at any moment.  
“If anything happens to my car, so much as a scratch, I will castrate you.” He smiles at the threat, as if it weren’t coming from the deadliest assassin in the world. I take two pills from the bottle and wash them down with the rest of my coffee.  
He gets the passenger door for me before going around to the driver’s side, having to move the seat back as far as it can go.  
“I’ve never sat in this seat before,” I look over at him, using my hand to block the sun. “It’s comfy,” He smirks. “What?”  
“You’re just,”  
“High?” I rest head against the window, the glass cool against my face. “I think that’s the only reason I haven’t lost it. Everything is fluffy. When I drove here, every thought was,” I trail off. “I’m tired, Steve.”  
“You can sleep, I don’t mind.” We both know that’s not what I meant.

We arrive back at the compound in the evening, just as Clint is heading off. He claps Steve on the shoulder and nods to me. Wanda hovers behind, looking at the three of us.  
“I made dinner,” She offers us once Clint is gone.  
We follow her to the kitchen and sit at the table, where she has laid out three bowls of stew. I don’t mention the broken ones I see piled in the sink. After the last incident, I ordered five back up sets of plates and cups, all in storage. Though, in this instance, I have a feeling she was playing with her powers and got distracted. Steve and Wanda take their seats, leaving me to sit at the head of the table.  
“It’s beef stroganoff,”  
“Thank you Wanda. Coming back to a homecooked meal, it’s the best I could have hoped for,” She smiles at him, and then looks to me.  
“You know I love your stroganoff,” I tease, “You’re just fishing for compliments,” She laughs, breaking that sullen tension that had filled the room. The two of them talk, trying to include me, but I find myself nodding off at the table.  
I bow out of the movie offering, instead heading to bed. In the morning, it is unsurprising to find Wand curled into a ball next to me, her forehead furrowed with the pains of a nightmare.  
“You’re okay, Little Witch. You’re safe,” I brush her hair away from her face, and the stress disappears, settling into a peaceful rest.  
In the bathroom, I look down at my leg, seeing the deep scar on the lower half of my left leg. It will take months for it to go away, if not longer. Each step aches as I head into the shower, the pain medicine wearing off.  
I step out of the shower, the bathroom filled with steam and smelling of lavender. After toweling off, I slide on my bathrobe, slightly damp like everything else in the room. I towel dry my hair and rise up, catching a look at myself as the fog begins to clear from the mirror. My eyes are dull, my cheeks hollow. But all I can see is my hair. Long and damp. Nearly reaching my ribs. The same length as before. The length that almost killed me. If I had been able to move. If I could have moved, none of this would have happened. I almost got Wanda killed. Fire flickering against my skin. Smoke. Screams of agony echo through my head. Were they mine? They might have been mine. Am I screaming? The hair. The long hair. Never again. I dig through my vanity but can find no scissors. Fucking Clint. What did he think I was going to do? I take the small handheld mirror out of the bottom drawer and smash it against the marble countertop. Gone. I need it gone. I grip the largest piece of glass in my hand. I feel myself tugging, trying to be free. The flames coming closer, licking my cheek. Never again.  
I let go of the shard, and it drops into the sink, stained with blood. I needed it gone. No more. Never again. I sink to the ground, surrounded by flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this chapter! I know it was super dark and sad, I'm sorry! Next chapter will be out this weekend, but a new chapter of Volition should be up before then!  
> Comments and feedback are always appreciated, thank you so much for reading my story! I cannot believe it is almost 275,000 words, that is insane!! Thank you all again! This story would not have made it nearly as far without you all (And especially my frequent commenters)  
> Thank you!!  
> (Still taking requests for Wanda story lines, I have a few mapped out but they are tentative and I'm happy to hear what you would all like to see!)


	13. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!  
> I just hit 20,000 total views, which is absolutely mind blowing to me. We started this journey with our girls five and a half months ago, and they have comes so far!! Thank you all for following along! 
> 
> On a more serious note, Volition was supposed to be updated tonight, and the chapter is practically done, but with all the bad things happening right now, I needed a bit of fluff. This chapter wasn't even originally supposed to be fluffy, I had all sorts of angst planned. We will go back to our regularly scheduled programming this weekend. But for now, some happiness (with a dark beginning due to the ending of the last chapter).  
> I hope you all stay safe and healthy!

The sound of muffled sobs wake me. I sit up in bed, realizing I once again ended up in Natasha’s room. We were supposed to have finally gone home two weeks ago, but that didn’t happen. I never sleep well here. Almost every night I am plagued by a series of nightmares, usually beginning when I was kidnapped. The Avenger’s compound is supposed to be one of the safest places in the world. If I could be kidnapped here- Another sob breaks my train of thought, bringing me back to the present. I hop out of bed, grabbing my crutches. By the time I reach the bathroom, the crying has stopped.  
“Natasha?” I hesitate on opening the door, knowing she may very well be furious with me for intruding. My concern wins out and I open the door.  
Natasha is sitting on the ground, rocking slightly. She clutches a bloody hand to her chest and her hair has been crudely cut. The trimmings cover the floor.  
“Nat?” She doesn’t hear me, and I have a feeling she’s not in the room right. I lower myself to the ground and grab her extensive first aid kit from underneath the sink. She allows me to take her hand and I open up her fist.  
There is a single deep cut on her palm, and several more on her fingers, like she was clutching the wrong end of a knife. I look up at her, her eyes wide and glassy. Her once long hair now ends unevenly at her shoulders.  
“You’re okay, Nat. We’re safe,” I clean the wounds and stitch up the one on her palm before wrapping it in gauze. The others only require band-aids. I continue murmuring reassurances while I work, without response. I’m finished and she still has a blank stare. “Nat, are you here with me?” What else is it that Clint always says? Fuck. “Mom?” I try. She lets out a shaky breath and closes her eyes. I’m gifted a small nod. “I’m going to grab a broom and dustpan, I’ll be right back.”  
When I return, Natasha is standing in front of the mirror with scissors. Her hair is combed, and she cuts with the ability of a professional stylist. I say nothing and watch. Within minutes, she has a beautiful layered bob, the hair just barely grazing the tops of her shoulders. She puts down the scissors and grips the counter, closing her eyes.  
“Mom,” She startles and turns to look at me.  
“I’ve got this,” she offers, taking the broom.  
“But,” I glance the bloodied mirror shard in the sink. This must have been what she used to cut her hair. Why didn’t she use the scissors? Natasha follows my gaze. “I couldn’t find them, was in a bit of a panic,” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m fine now. Really,” She takes out her blow dryer. “I’ll clean this up and make us breakfast. You get started on your schoolwork. You’re supposed to be going back this week,” She hurries me out of the room before I can respond, slamming the door behind her.  
“Natasha, what do you mean I am going back to school this week?” I yell to the door. The sound of the blow dryer drowns me out. I try the knob and find it is locked. “Natasha!” I bang on the wood. Nothing. I huff, hopping out of the room. It is Saturday, does that mean I am supposed to start again on Monday? Why didn’t she tell me? Stupid, of course I know why she didn’t tell me.  
Tony’s Halloween gala is tonight as well. Though I have a feeling Nat has forgotten. I head into the kitchen and see Steve sitting at the dining table with his morning paper, cup of coffee in hand. My own are stained with blood. Before I can turn around, he greets me with a smile, then his eyes travel down to the evidence.  
“Caught me red handed,” I try to joke.  
“Wanda,”  
“I should go put on my leg,” I force out a smile.  
“Whose blood is that?” I don’t meet his eyes. He pushes back from the table, dropping his newspaper.  
“She’s fine, really. I stitched it up. She wasn’t trying to hurt herself,” I defend. “I’m going to go wash up.”  
After taking a shower, I head back into the common area and see Natasha making pancakes. Steve is nearly on top of her, whispering fervently. She waves him off, clearly irritated. But based on what I saw in the bathroom, his concerns are clearly warranted.  
“Steve, please. I’m trying to,” she sighs, “Just, please,” He steps back and looks over at me.  
“Wanda, coffee?” he offers. Natasha immediately straightens her back.  
“What are you wearing to the party tonight?” Nat asks over her shoulder, flipping a pancake.  
“I don’t think I’m going,” I look over to Steve, not liking where this conversation is going. I had hoped she had forgotten.  
“Wanda’s leg is bothering her,” I’m going to kill him. What kind of lie is that? That is a lie that gets me on bedrest.  
“Steve, you are so full of shit,” she snaps, “Awful liars. The worst I have ever met. Wanda wouldn’t have told anyone her leg was bothering her,”  
“Hey! That’s not true,” I huff.  
“I’m not enjoying this little partnership between the two of you, ganging up on me. You don’t need to dance around me like I’m,” she trails off. Her mouth twists. It reminds me too much of when she was recovering from oxygen deprivation and couldn’t find words. “I’m no more broken than I was before.” My heart breaks a little. “We will go to the party tonight, and we’ll have fun.” She looks to me.  
“Nat,” Steve begins. I interrupt.  
“Natasha, I just found you on the floor of the bathroom covered in blood and glass. You can’t go to the party.”  
“Excuse me?” Her mood flips so quick I almost stumble back. “You are my _child_. You do not get to tell me what to do. Under any circumstances. Is that clear?” Her voice is like ice. I haven’t seen her this angry in a while. Even when I borrowed her car, she seemed more disappointed in me than angry. I bob my head up and down, trying not to cry. “You will never speak to me like that again. Understood?” I nod again. She shuts off the burner and stalks out of the kitchen, her limp barely noticeable.  
“I’ll go talk to her,” Steve places a hand on my shoulder and heads towards the gym. I am left alone in the kitchen with a charred pancake.

* * *

There is a knock at my bedroom door, I use my powers to open it, not bothering to get out of bed. Rather than Nat, as I hoped, it is Steve.  
“Hi Cap,” I bounce a ball up in the air with my powers, and it follows the same motions as it I was tossing it.   
“Happy is going to drive you to the party,” Steve walks in.  
“No thank you,” I continue to practice my control.  
“It wasn’t a question.”  
“Is Nat going?”  
“No.”  
“Then I’m not going.” Steve snatches the ball out of the air. I sit up and glare at him. I can feel my eyes glowing red. He stares me down until I let the fade back to their normal blue.  
“Pepper and Tony said you could stay with them at the tower. Or, if you’d rather, I’m sure Peter and May would love to have you.”  
“I don’t want to leave her.”  
“We’ll be fine. There are some movies she’s been bugging me to watch. She wants you to have some fun.”  
“Well then why isn’t _she_ the one talking to me?”  
“Wanda,”  
“Nat doesn’t want me around,” I feel my bottom lip jut out, fully aware I am looking and acting like a petulant child.  
“Its not that,” He shakes his head, “She’s really struggling, and it upsets her when you see her like this.”  
“But I want to help,”  
“Then have some fun and so Nat can worry a little less. She’s convinced that she is depriving you of being a normal teenager. Go to a party, wear a fun costume, hang out with your friends.” He is obviously regurgitating what Nat telling him. Steve turns to leave the room. “She really loves you. You know that, right?”  
“Yeah, I know.”

I tried to ride in the front seat with Happy, but he makes me sit in the back. Apparently, the front is his space. I thought he would have wanted a little company. It is a quiet drive, aside from my phone vibrating every few minutes with texts from Peter, asking where I am.  
The party is already in fully swing when I arrive, having missed the red carpet. Not that I mind. I am happy to avoid it.  
The elevator opens to the penthouse where there are hundreds of people gathered. I suppose this is my last chance to practice control before going back to school on Monday.  
I quickly begin to regret my costume. It seemed like a clever idea at the time, it truly did. Peter waves from the other side of the room. I skirt the walls, making my way over to him.  
“That is a great costume,” he looks down at my leg, “Did you make that?”  
“I used Tony’s 3D printer and entered the dimensions, but I did paint it,” I look down at the peg leg. I programmed the printer to supply grooves and knots that come with wood.  
“You don’t give yourself enough credit when it comes to tech,” MJ inspects the leg.  
“What are your costumes?” Well, Peter’s is fairly obvious. He is a vampire, but he rolls his eyes when he looks at his girlfriend.  
“I’m a homicidal maniac, I look just like everyone else,”  
“You stole that from the _Adams Family_ , just admit you forgot to get a costume,” He waves his hands in the air, exasperated. MJ looks to me and smirks. Ned comes over, dressed as someone from _Star Wars_.  
“Sick pirate costume,” I smile in thanks. The off the shoulder white peasant top accentuates my breasts, and the black and white striped skirt is a little bit shorter than I usually wear. Hoping to attract a certain person’s attention. I feel Ned’s eyes lingering on my leg. I remember now why I wear dresses that cover most of my thighs. I try to tug down my skirt a bit, hiding the patchwork of skin.  
Peter nudges Ned, realizing I have caught him staring. He looks at me apologetically. I shrug it off. It wasn’t a mean stare, or pitying. Curiosity. Human, natural. Still not enjoyable. I spot Vision, he is dressed as superman, keeping his signature cape.  
“I’m going to go say hi to Vizh,” God do I regret this leg.  
I should have just put cardboard around my actual leg, I had to go for the aesthetic. Or I could have gone for a costume that had nothing to do with my leg. But that just seemed like a wasted opportunity. Vision seems to notice my trouble with getting over to him and flies over the crowd, landing beside me.  
“Hi Vizh, or should I say Clark?”  
“Hello Wanda,” His eyes don’t sweep up and down my body as I would hope, but remain on my face. I feel a tickle of annoyance. This is our first time seeing each other since we broke up almost two months ago and I don’t even get a reaction out of him.  
“What do you think of my costume?”  
“It seems to hinder your ability to walk,” I set my jaw. At least my irritation does not go unnoticed. “How is Ms. Romanoff?”  
“How do you think?” I snap. “Or you’d know if you ever came around.”  
“I did not believe I was welcome.”  
“It your home, I am just a guest.”  
“I believe Captain Rogers would be upset to learn you think that.”  
“Well Captain Rogers is at the compound with my mom, so they kicked me out for date night.”  
“They are dating?” Vision raises his eyebrows.  
“Well, no.” I deflate, the fight draining out of me.  
“Perhaps we ought to go up to the roof?”  
“I cannot do those stairs in this thing,”  
Before I know it, I am in Vision’s arms and we are soaring to the roof. Thankfully, we were already near the balcony, or it would have caused quite a scene. I sit down on one of the vents, the cold air biting at me. But it is preferable to breaking down in tears in front of all those people.  
“Wanda?”  
“She isn’t doing well. She keeps pretending, but I see the cracks. I’m scared she is going to break.”  
“Have you talked to Sam about your fears?”  
“He’s undercover. He won’t be back until next week.”  
“Have you been shouldering this alone?”  
“I spoke to Clint a few days ago,” I pull off the plastic leg. “But I couldn’t say anything. He is already freaking out about leaving. But Laura is eight months pregnant, and they are trying to get the addition done before Thanksgiving when everyone comes over. So he had to go home and Nat refused to go with him so now Steve is taking care of Natasha. And Natasha is trying to take care of me. And she won’t listen to me when I try to help her,”  
“Wanda, perhaps, if I may,” Vision interrupts. I look up at him with eyes blurred by tears. He sits beside me, radiating heat. “I think that maybe Ms. Romanoff does not want you to help or take care of her.”  
“Why? She always does it for me.”  
“It may make her feel inadequate. A mother’s job is to take care of their child, not the other way around.” I think of her yelling at me today. And insisting on doing the sweeping. Trying to get me to get ready for school. Making breakfast. Wanting to take me to this party. I tried to stop all of it. It was her initial fear in adopting me, that she couldn’t be a mother, and here I was stopping her when she was trying to find her footing. “It is not your fault, Wanda. Ms. Romanoff is a complicated woman.” I snort at the phrasing. “But you make her feel more human, as you did for me.”  
“I miss you, Vizh.”  
“And I you. Perhaps I can be more present at the compound.” He looks down at how close our bodies are and scooches away a few inches. “You are a good friend, Wanda.” I sigh. Friend.  
“Thank you for the advice. You’re a good friend too.”  
We head back down to the party, which has thinned out significantly to only a few dozen people.  
“Wanda!” I look over at Peter who is standing at a line of donuts on a string. “Come on, I bet you have never done this.”  
“What is this?” I laugh at the display.  
“We have to eat the donuts without them falling to the ground. First one done wins. And no hands.” I join him in the line with our friends.  
“Alright, are you ready kids?” Tony asks.  
“Aye, aye, Captain!” Ned and Peter chorus. I tilt my head, confused.  
“That’s not Cap,”  
“No, its from this TV,” Peter starts to explain.  
“Go!” Peter’s explanation is cut off as we begin to eat our donuts. I see Peter begin to catch up with me, and I raise my finger, moving his doughnut higher in the air.  
“Hey! Wanda! Stop, you can’t move my doughnut!” I shrug, letting his doughnut fall and lifting Peter off the ground.  
Ned and MJ have given up on eating to donuts, laughing at the display. I let him drift to the ground as I finish, giving a triumphant, and powder covered, smile.  
“Well, I am not bobbing for apples with you, I can tell you that much,” Peter plucks the remaining bit of his doughnut off the string, plopping it in his mouth.  
Tony begins to make a speech. His costume is his Ironman suit, which seems a bit like cheating. It would be like if I came as Scarlet Witch, but no one else pays any mind. The gala raised twelve million dollars this year to support homeless children in New York, and Tony matches the donation. My heart twinges at the thought of children sleeping on the streets of New York.  
“Tony!” I flag him down as he steps off stage.  
“Hey Little Red, I meant to ask earlier, did you make the leg?”  
“Yes, I programmed the 3D printer to create a wood pattern,”  
“That’s impressive,” he bends down, “You know, you’re welcome to help out in the shop sometime if you ever get sick of the humanities with Nat. I know I said you didn’t have a gift for engineering, but I might have been wrong.”  
“No, Nat just taught me basic computer programming,” I shrug, “Thank you though,” I tack on, remembering my manners.  
“So what was it that you were so frantically flagging me down for?”  
“The foundation that the money is going to,”  
“Yes, it is under the Stark brand of foundations. Don’t worry, all the money goes to the kids. No one is lining their pockets.”  
“I was wondering if I could come, when you and Pepper go,” Tony’s face softens.  
“Of course. How about after school on Monday? I’ll let Nat and Pepper know.” He smiles, “You’re a good kid, Wanda.”

Happy drops me off at the compound around eight o’clock. I am getting my car privileges back on Monday. When I was originally told, I hadn’t known it was in order to drive myself to school, which puts a damper on the celebration.  
When I walk into the residential area, I am surprised to see Nat and Steve asleep on the couch. There is a bowl of half-finished popcorn on the coffee table, and an empty bottle of wine on the ground. I also spy four pizza boxes and a carton of ice cream also empty. They lay lengthwise. Natasha’s head rests on Steve’s chest, with one arm wrapped across his abdomen, and her bad leg slung over one of his. Steve has an arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, and both are still fast asleep. It is probably the most peaceful I have ever seen either of them. Now I wonder if what I told Vision last night was a lie. Maybe they _are_ dating.  
I head to my bedroom to put on my normal leg and come back out to Steve slowly untangling himself from Nat, trying not to wake her. How he does it successfully is a miracle to me. We begin to clean up the living room, working in silence, as Nat sleeps on.  
We finish and head into the kitchen where Steve starts breakfast and I put on the coffee. It is nearly nine when Natasha walks in, rubbing sleep from her eyes. I hand her a mug of coffee, her favorite mug that she forgot to bring to the apartment. It has butterflies and a broken handle that has been glued back on. It is so out of character for her, but she seems to have a special attachment to it. It makes me glad that it was in her bedroom when I destroyed the kitchen a year and a half ago.  
“How was the party?”  
“Great, I beat Peter at the doughnut on the string contest.” I take a sip of my own coffee.  
“Did everything go okay?”  
“Yes, it actually went well.” I smile. “I didn’t accidentally read anyone’s mind or blow up all the bottles at the bar.” It was only one, and it was on purpose.  
“Do you think you are ready to go back to school?” I nod and her shoulders relax. “So, what’s for breakfast?” She changes the topic.  
“Crepes,” Steve replies, “I learned how to make them when I was in France,”  
“Decadent,” Natasha replies with a tired smile. “Do you want me to do your hair?” She offers. I would love for her to braid my hair.  
“It’s fine,” I reply, there are dark circles under her eyes, and her cheeks are still hollow. Then I remember what Vision said. “Actually, could you? I want to head down to the gym after breakfast and practice that knife trick we were working on.” A bigger smile spreads on her face.  
“That sounds like a great idea. Two French braids?” I nod. Her fingers move just as deftly as they always have, and the braids are done in minutes, the same time as the crepes. “Done,” I turn around and see her eyes are little bit brighter. She takes both my hands in hers and gives a light squeeze. The squeeze that used to be the most physical contact that she could handle. Now, she is more open to affection, but it hasn’t lost its significance. Nevertheless, I jump forward wrap my arms around her. She reciprocates instantly, her arms embracing me. It is familiar, comforting, safe.   
“I love you, Mom,”  
“I love you too, Little Witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I write mom it throws me off. No one I know calls their mom "mom" or like writes it down like that. It's just mum. Regional dialects, man. Lol Anyways...  
> I hope you all liked this chapter, as I said, back to the story this weekend.  
> AND!!!  
> I have big plans for after Wanda's birthday! ;) So stay tuned! Probably 4 chapters away? Maybe 3 depending on how long the next few chapters are! Any who,  
> As always, comments and feedback are always appreciated!!  
> Thank you!!! :)


	14. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Minor trigger warning for self destructive thoughts and PTSD***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,  
> Hope you are doing well! Another chapter! I am feeling a bit unmotivated for Volition right now because I am sooo excited about what I am building up to here. Also, life is getting busy and I haven't had as much time to write as I usually do.  
> Please enjoy, and as always comments and feedback are always appreciated!  
> This is also last call for Wanda requests!! Please let me know anything you'd like to see for our Little Witch :)

I close the door to Wanda’s room, heading back into the common area. Steve seems to be deep in thought, leaning over his Starkpad.  
“Trying to figure out how to connect to the Wi-Fi?” He looks up from the device, an attempted smile on his face.  
“You know, Romanoff, I actually know how to live in this century now.”  
“You had a good teacher,” I tease, heading to my room.  
“I’m going to miss having you and Wanda around.”  
“Well lucky for you, you’re stuck with us for a few more days.” I look over at him. “You can go to your place in Brooklyn. You don’t have to stay here.”  
“Somebody has to.”

I check on Wanda around one, finding her still asleep, and head back to my room. The slice on my hand has almost completely faded, but my guilt has not. Guilt over chopping off all my hair. Guilt over burdening Wanda. I can’t help but feel I do more to hurt her than help her. And sending her off to school. It isn’t something she wants; it isn’t something I want. I am perfectly happy tutoring her, not that I would ever say so. It is enjoyable, spending time with her and watching her face light up as she learns a new concept. But she needs something to be normal. Anything. Her ex-boyfriend is an android, her mother is a super soldier assassin, her afterschool job is a superhero, and she can hear other people’s thoughts. Going to Friday night football games and studying for physics test should be a welcomed break. Instead it is torture. I have severely messed her up.  
No further evidence is needed, when at three, I am jarred from my thoughts by screaming. Steve stumbles out of his room, but I wave him off, pushing open the door to Wanda’s room. Her pillows have all exploded, which is a new one. The entire room is covered in white goose feathers, and Wanda is covering her ears, shouting in Sokovian.  
“Wanda, honey, it’s me. You’re safe, we’re in your room at the compound. It has been so long since I have heard her use her mother tongue, I almost forgot what is sounded like. I crawl into her bed beside her, and she tenses up. “Little Witch,” I pull her close and she leans against my chest, sobbing.  
“They give and give; I don’t want their presents,” she murmurs incoherently, switching back to English. I know better than to ask what she is talking about.  
“They aren’t here, they will never give you anything again.” I stroke her hair, “Do you know where you are?” The question seems to jar her out of whatever flashback she was stuck in.  
“Compound?”  
“Yes,”  
“Not safe. Never safe alone,”  
“You’re not alone, you’ve got me.” She presses closer, drifting off once more.

I wake up in her bed in the morning. Wanda’s face is still stained with tear tracks, and I begin to regret sending her back to school more and more. If today goes poorly, I won’t force her back tomorrow. I rouse her gently, brushing her hair out of her face.  
“Ten more minutes,” she groans.  
“Kind of high balling there,” I tease.  
“Room for negation,” She opens up one eye groggily. “I’m sorry, for last night.” Her sad doe eyes look up at me.  
“You have nothing to apologize for, okay? Nothing at all. I was awake anyway.”   
“You aren’t sleeping?” She sits up, concerned.  
“I slept three hours, which is plenty.” It was two, maybe.  
“It’s my fault you aren’t sleeping,”  
“There are a lot of causes, and I promise, you are not one of them.” I hand over her crutches, “You do, however, have to get up and shower.”  
In the kitchen, I see Steve has already brewed a cup of coffee. His is the third best out of everyone on the team. It will have to do. I add the copious amounts of cream and sugar that Wanda enjoys, and begin a bowl of microwave oatmeal. She walks into the kitchen a few minutes later, freshly showered. Her hair drips onto the floor around her seat and she tiredly sips from her cup of coffee.  
“Do you want me to do your hair?” She nods, poking at the oatmeal. Before she can ask for it, I place the maple syrup down in front of her. I French braid the hair on the left before gathering it all into a sweeping high ponytail. “You are going to have to start doing your own hair eventually, and I don’t mean just leaving it hanging loose,”  
“You like doing my hair,” she points out. I begin to make her lunch, spreading a thick layer of peanut butter onto the bread. She closes her eyes, take a long sip of her coffee.  
She looks so much different than when she first arrived. Those first few weeks, she was sickly thin, her cheekbones too prominent, her shoulders sharp. It did well to disguise her real age. Now she looks healthy, I can’t count her ribs by looking at her t-shirt. The dark rimmed eyes are no more, not hidden by heavy eyeshadow. And her sallow skin now has a healthy glow. Her hair is no longer brittle and greasy, but shining and bouncy. But then I think of last night. And running away, to get away from me. I think I would run from me too. Hell, I have tried. I don’t blame her.  
“Mom?” I feel hands take mine. I blink, trying to orient myself. “You got a little lost,” she tilts her head.  
“Sorry, I,” I look down. I was making her lunch.  
“It was only for a minute,” She lets go of my hands, bringing her bowl over to the sink.  
“I’m sorry for making you do this,”  
“Only until Thanksgiving, right?” She forces out a bright smile. “was once shocked for three weeks straight, I can handle sitting in classes for that long.”  
“If you need me,”  
“I’ll call.” I can tell she is withholding her fears.  
“You’re a good person, Wanda. You are the light of my life.” I pull her into a hug. “And remember that I love you, no matter what.”  
“Even if I was fifteen feet tall?” I laugh at the unexpected question.  
“Even if you were thirty feet tall,” This seems to satisfy her. She kisses my cheek and runs out the door.  
“You can come in now,” I call down the hall. Steve emerges sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.  
“I didn’t want to intrude. It seemed private.” He grabs a water bottle out of the fridge, “I would have driven her if you had asked.”  
“No. She needs her car there, so she doesn’t feel trapped. Last time,” I sit down on the counter, “If I hadn’t taken away her car, she would have been able to leave the school. Escape. Instead, she sequestered herself into a classroom and caused twenty thousand dollars’ worth of damage.”  
“You okay?”  
“Better today than I was yesterday, or last week. I’m having an entire conversation rather than broken sentences, so let’s call that a win.” I give him a grin, my cheeks hurting from the moving the underused muscles.  
“Want to go out for breakfast?”  
“Really?”  
“We don’t have to. I just,”  
“I’ll get dressed,”  
I meet him out front where he has pulled his car around. His navy-blue Ford Mustang purrs.  
“Don’t expect to make a habit of this,” I warn, settling into the passenger seat.  
“Out of what?”  
“Chauffeuring me around. This isn’t going to become a thing.”  
“I give you a ride twice, and suddenly its an issue?” He looks over at me.  
“Just don’t want you getting any ideas.” I prop my feet up on the dash.  
“What kind of ideas?” His mouth twitches into a frown.  
“That I need rescuing, or anything like that.”  
“Nat, no one is doubting your capabilities. At all. You could kill people with both hands tied behind your back. You can even drive home if you want. We could have taken your car. This is breakfast. No ulterior motive,” he promises, “And get your feet off my dashboard.”  
We pull up to the same breakfast place I went to with Pepper and take a table by the window. Besides a few curious glances, we are blessedly left alone. I’m not sure I could manage fans asking questions and taking selfies right now. I haven’t slept properly in days, and it is beginning to wear on me. Even on Saturday during our movie marathon, which I had dubbed Operation Distract Nat, a name Steve did not appreciate, I hadn’t fallen asleep until well past four.  
“What are you going to get?” I shrug, flipping through the menu.  
“You know me, not much of a food enthusiast.” But I also know I had lost a lot of weight over the past few weeks, an unhealthy amount. I order a stack of Belgian waffles and a pot of coffee, while Steve gets half the menu. “We are going to Aspen for Christmas. You can come.” I take a sip of the coffee.  
“Are you giving me permission or are you inviting me?” He laughs.  
“What’s the difference? We’re staying at my house.”  
“You have a house in Colorado?”  
“I have places everywhere, Cap.” I lean back. “Most of my net worth comes from real estate holdings.”  
“Have you even ever been to the house?”  
“When I bought it. It has been used as a vacation rental since. Its not a safehouse.” Our food arrives and we begin to eat. “What is it that you said in the car? No ulterior motive?” He looks at me doubtfully. “Yes Steve, believe it or not, sometimes, okay, rarely, what you see is what you get with me.” I pop a blueberry in my mouth. His eyes widen as if he had just remembered something.  
“I’ve actually been meaning to apologize to you,”  
“What?”  
“For the motorcycle”  
“Steve, that was three years ago.”  
“I know, but you gave it to me.”  
“You were running from Neo-Nazis, I can let it slide.” I laugh. “Have you been feeling guilty about that for this long? That is insane, Steve.”  
“Well, I kept meaning to apologize, and then Ultron happened, and a lot of other things, and it just never seemed like the right time.” I look at his flustered face.  
“You are forgiven. Especially if you are paying for breakfast.”  
“And,”  
“Steve, if this is going to start turning into some heart to heart breakfast, I will steal your car and leave you here.” He wisely chooses not to add anything else. Halfway through breakfast, I get a text from Wanda that she had arrived at school and made it to homeroom without killing anyone. She also informs me of her afterschool plans.  
“Everything okay?”  
“Yes, just Wanda. She’s going with Tony to the homeless shelter today to drop off the funds raised.”  
“She’s a good kid. I’m impressed, her wanting to rejoin the team after everything.”  
“She has this delusion that she has a debt to pay to the world. Even though the world has never done her any favors, she still wants to fight for it.”  
“Sounds like someone else I know.” I narrow my eyes at him and quickly swipe a piece of his bacon.  
“Rogers, sometimes it is best to keep revelations to yourself.”  
“Come on, Nat. You have to know that you are the most selfless person in the world, and the kindest,” I break eye contact, uncomfortable with his praise.  
“And Tony is the humblest person I know.” I reply, stealing the last of his bacon. I flinch at a crash. Waitress dropped a plate. I’m fine. It’s fine.  
“Tash,”  
“We should get back to the compound,” I pull out my wallet. My anxiety begins to rise, and I swear I can smell smoke from the kitchen. We’re right near the door. We can get out. We’re fine. Everything is fine.  
“I forced you out, I’ll pay. Do you want to wait outside?” I nod, and push back from the table too quickly, jostling it. There is a small ally between the restaurant and a bar. I sink to the ground, leaning against the brick.  
I’m being irrational. Completely irrational. Everything was good. Breakfast was normal, and I had to go and mess it up. What is wrong with me? I bite the fleshy part of my hand to stop from screaming. I need to breathe. Breathe, Natalia. _Natalia_? Where the fuck did that come from? Never Natalia. I am not Natalia. Not her. Not ever. Never again. Not Natalia. Natasha. Nat. Tash. Auntie Nat. Tasha. Not, not Tasha. Not anymore. Mom. Breathe. Wanda needs me. Can’t spiral. Can’t run. Promised.  
“Nat?” Relief floods Steve’s face. “Thank God, I thought, I don’t know what I thought.”  
“That I stole your car and left you stranded there?” I stand up, my legs shaking.  
“We aren’t in a rush, if you need a minute, we can take it.”  
“I’m okay,” I push back my shoulders and pop the collar of my leather jacket, “Moment of weakness, won’t happen again.”

* * *

A few days after my breakfast with Steve, I hear a familiar knock at the door. He wasn’t supposed to be here for another few days.  
“Welcome back,” I look up from my computer.  
“Doing work in bed, really?” I shrug, looking back down.  
“Not working, shopping.” Clint plops down on my bed, jostling the laptop.  
“What’re you shopping for?” He looks over at the screen, clearly not believing me.  
“Wanda’s birthday party,” I scroll through Amazon. “How as Cooper’s birthday with his friends?”  
“Great until the saw our family photo that I forgot to put away,” I close my laptop.  
“Oh no.”  
“Yep. From the Third of July, you know before everything went to hell.”  
“Maybe we can have Wanda come in and erase their memories of the party?”  
“I am not having her erase a bunch of eleven-year-olds’ minds, Nat.”  
“So the gig is up?”  
“You know, I always figured it would be Lila who would blow our cover. But it was me. Picture hiding was my job.”  
“To be fair, it was a pretty weak cover,” He shoves me and leans back into the pillows.  
“Speaking of Wanda, how’s school going?”  
“Well, it is day three, and so far, no incident. But it is only ten. Monday, she called me during lunch crying, and yelling at me for putting her through this. When I offered to pick her up, she started screaming at me for treating her like a baby. Tuesday, she found out there was an assembly about her last week. That went about as well as you could imagine. But I receive emails from her teachers after every class. They said she is adjusting well, participating in class at least a little. I offered to not have her go back after Monday, but she acted as though I had just told her she could never watch sitcoms again.” I sigh, “I think I’m doing the right thing, but I don’t really know.”  
“That’s kind of how it all works.” Clint flashes me a smile, but the reaches forward and flicks a lock of hair that fell out of my ponytail, “You cut your hair,”  
“Yeah, it was time for a change,” I don’t meet his eyes.  
“You know I check in with Steve twice a day, right?”  
“I don’t need to be looked after like I’m going to fall apart at any moment.” We sink into silence. Neither of us can decided if that statement is really true.  
“Can I look?” He nods to my leg. I pull out from underneath the sheets. The scar is large and ugly. “Does it still hurt?”  
“No. Back to normal. And to prove it, I’m going to kick your ass in the ring,” I tug him out of bed.  
“But it’s so comfy, and Nate has been coming in at night with Laura and I. He cries, and I don’t get any sleep. He just scream and kicks, and,” he stops talking. I look at him expectantly. “Well, um, you get it. You’re a parent now too.”  
“We’re going home this weekend. Driving back and forth from Upstate to Queens isn’t fair to her, at all.”  
“Are you going to be okay?”  
“Of course,” I roll my eyes. I have to be.  
Clint and I begin our sparring session, my muscles tight from disuse.  
“Nat, you know I’m here to talk, right?”  
“Not much of a talker,” I reply, sweeping his feet out from underneath him. He catches himself easily. We continue to fight, falling into a rhythm. It is easy to get lost in the movements. No thoughts. Just instinct.  
“Nat, it’s okay. It’s me Clint. You’re okay. Deep breaths. Come on, Tash.” I blink. Oh my God. I spring back, throwing the knife across the room. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.”  
“I had you pinned to the ground, with a knife to your,”  
“I’m okay, see?” He shows me his throat, “The knife didn’t even touch me.”  
“I almost killed you.”  
“Not even close. We’re okay.” I can’t believe I pull a knife on him. What if I had been sparring with Wanda? “Nat,”  
“It’s been three weeks. I should be fine by now.”  
“You were forced to relive the worst experience in your life. It’s okay to not be okay.”  
“I have a job, responsibilities. I can’t just,” I wave my hands in the air, unsure of what words to use.  
“Take time to recover?”  
“Fuck off.”  
“Natasha,”  
“Fine. I’m tired, okay? But I can’t not do all of this. I need it like I need air. When I don’t I start to go crazy. Actually crazy.” From the bench, Clint’s phone dings, the flashlight blinking. He jogs over.  
“It’s Tony, he has new arrows he wants me to see.”  
“Go. I’m fine. Just going to sit here a while longer.”  
“Tony can wait,”  
“Go. Those arrows are the reason you’re here instead of home with Laura.”  
“Nah, they were just an excuse to see my best friend.”  
“Go, Clint.” I stretch out. “Your friend is fine.” He gives me one more doubtful glance before heading out of the gym.  
A few minutes later, my own phone goes off. I arch my back and pick up the device. It’s the team group message,  
_Mission in Toronto. Wheels up in 10. Briefing on jet._  
I clench and unclench my fists. My heart is pounding in my ears. Not ready to go back. Not ready. I run to my room and change into my catsuit before going out to the landing pad. My fingers don’t cooperate, having trouble gripping the zipper. After three tries, the suit is zipped up. But my hands continue to shake to such a degree, that putting on my Widow’s bites is proving to be difficult.  
“Natasha!” I flinch but quickly find my composure. “What the hell are you doing?”  
“Mission,” I duck my head, adjusting my belt. Mission first. Mission always comes first. No. Wanda. Wanda comes first. Then mission.  
“Go change out of your uniform. Are you out of your mind?” Clint glares at me.  
“I can’t.” I run my hands through my hair. “I can’t.” The second repetition comes out as more of a whine. I hate myself.  
“Do you want to go?” He asks, his voice softer. I swallow. The rest of the team arrives, all battle ready, and staring at me.  
“Have any of you guys seen Nat?” Steve boards the aircraft, his eyes immediately zero in on me. “What are you doing?”  
“You texted saying that there was a mission.”  
“I figured you’d want to know, not that you’d come. I don’t know if you’re ready, Nat.”  
“You said there was a mission and I’m here.” I think I’m going to be sick.  
“If you think you’re good,” He remains doubtful.  
“No, she’s not good.” Clint interjects. Tony, Sam, and Bruce watch the argument begin to unfold. I want to sink into my seat and disappear.  
“Medically, Nat is fine. If this is what she needs, it should be her choice. She is an adult; she can make her own decisions.”   
“No, she can’t.” No, God. Please.  
“Clint,” I beg. Please don’t do this to me. I will get kicked off the team. At best, they will see me for what I really am. An object. A tool. A doll. A weapon. Something to be used and put away. Not worthy of friendship or love. Nothing more than what the Red Room made me to be.  
“That isn’t up to you. She is her own person. You don’t just get to decide for her.”  
“No, you idiot! She physically cannot decide for herself!” Clint is breathing heavily in Steve’s face, hand on his holster.  
“You promised,” I stare at him.  
“If you go out into the field right now, you’re going to get yourself killed. I won’t let that happen. Not over your pride.” I march up to him, ignoring a confused Steve. As I am about to chew him out, Tony speaks up, for once in his life, sounding unsure,  
“I hate to interrupt, but Toronto is burning,” he urges. Burning? I can feel the flames enveloping me. Smoke filling the air. I dig my nails into my palms, trying to find something, anything, to hold onto. Mission first. Have to perform. Black Widow. I am the Black Widow. Right now, I feel anything but.  
“Nat, you don’t have to go.”  
“Oh my God, get it through your thick skull, Cap! She doesn’t have the choice!”  
The silence that follows is deafening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another evil cliffhanger, I'm sorry! But I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! 
> 
> ALSO HUGE THANK YOU TO YOU ALL!!  
> I just reached over 600 Kudos and 100 subscriptions (Lots of milestones this week!) It is absolutely mindblowing to me. I never expected this when I started six months ago. Thank you all for reading and for your comments, they are always appreciated!


	15. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger warning for accidental self-harm***  
> Just in general, the first four thousand words of this chapter are dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?! Posting ahead of schedule?! Wild! Lol  
> The amazing comments I got on the last chapter motivated me to put this one out ASAP! I actually forgot to eat dinner because I was so wrapped up in writing (whoops)  
> It is pretty dark, not going to lie. Also, a lot more swearing than usual. I don't normally like to use a ton of swears because I feel like it lacks creativity, but emotions are running high in this chapter.  
> I hope you all enjoy this long chapter! Almost 5k words!

“Natasha,” Steve looks over at me, “Is that true?” He sounds… scared? Why? I nod my head, not trusting myself to speak. They want honesty, and any word that comes out of my mouth with be far from that.  
“Nat, come on. Let’s go have a cup of tea, watch a movie,” Clint grabs my arm.  
“Can’t, I have to,” I shake my head.  
“Nat, I don’t think you should be going on this mission,” Steve says gently. I look over to Clint, who is typing furiously on his phone, then back to Steve. Is that an order? It doesn’t sound like an order. It is a mission; I have to go on the mission. Those are the rules. No those were the rules from the Red Room. It has been twelve years. _No, Natasha. You are a weapon. Weapons cannot choose when they are used_. Clint holds out his phone to me. I take it, confused.  
“Romanoff! Get off that jet, now.” I flinch, “That is an order.” My breath begins to come faster and faster. I feel like I’m being torn in two. Follow orders or go on mission. Two opposite directives. I’m supposed to do both. They are both technically orders but contrasting. Both cannot be completed. I have to complete my tasks. “You were not assigned this mission, Agent. Get. Off. The. Jet.”  
“Yes sir,” I reply timidly. But I got the text? Doesn’t that make it my mission? I was assigned it. It is an Avenger’s mission. I am an Avenger. Clint grabs my hand, pulling me down the gangplank.  
“It’s okay, Nat. You’re okay.” My knees buckle. I can’t walk any further. Have to get back on the jet. Mission first. No there were orders. Fury’s orders. Fury’s higher up than Steve, right? How does it work now that SHIELD is gone? What is the chain of command? “You would have died on that mission, Nat. There were bombs going off in the subway system. You would have been trapped underground with fire. What would that have done to Wanda if you had died?” Wanda. I promised not to leave. Dying is leaving. “Let’s get you inside, okay?” He pulls me off the ground, “Can you walk?” I nod numbly, stumbling.  
“Getting rid of me?”  
“What? Natasha, no one is getting rid of you.” I curl up on the couch, pulling my legs to my chest.  
“I’m useless if I can’t go on missions. What is my purpose? And if I don’t go, I’ll go crazy, Clint. You know that. I can’t do that; I can’t go on a killing spree. Not anymore. Never again. I said never again.”  
“Natasha, breathe. Please. We will figure something out. We always do.”  
“They hate me. How do you not hate me? I’m a weapon, and I’m not even good at being that anymore! I abandoned the mission. I failed. I promised not to fail. Marble, I’m supposed to be made of marble. I can’t break,”  
“I’m going to make you a cup of tea and you can change out of your uniform, okay?” I’m useless. He’s lying.  
They will find someone to replace me. Where will I go? The world security council could decide to convict me if I no longer serve a purpose, no longer helping people. Hawley is gone, she can’t protect me anymore. They wouldn’t even need a trial. Only people get trials.  
“I’ll help you, come on.” He pulls me off the couch and I stagger into my bedroom, my feet working autonomously. I hardly even notice him unzipping my suit. I’m down to just compression shorts and a sports bra. He pulls off the shorts and slides on a pair of sweatpants, and then one of Steve’s t-shirts over my head. “You really need to get your own clothes, Nat.” He teases, and then pulls my hair away from my face, tying it back with a hair elastic that was on my wrist. Most of it fall right out, hanging in my face once more. It is like I am a doll. An object. Something to be moved and manipulated. A weapon to be fired and used. But I’m not. Not after today. They needed the team, but because of me, they are down two members. They could all die, and it would be my fault.  
“Nat, I need you to stay with me.” Clint rubs my shoulders. I blink, trying to be present. I feel something cold. I look down and see ice cubes in my hands. It seems to help. We are in the kitchen. How did we get to the kitchen? “You here?” I nod, “Come on, Tash. You know the drill.”  
“Here,” The cubes melt in my warm palms.  
“Do you want to talk to Wanda? It must be lunchtime, right? We could call her,”  
“No.” He hands me a cup of tea. The warm is a stark contrast to the ice from moments ago.  
“What can I do?” he pleads. “I want to help.”  
“I hate you.” I look up at him, “They will never look at me the same way again. They will never see me as a person. Fucking Vision is more human than me,” I bark out a laugh.  
“Natasha,”  
“I’m going to the firing range,” I stand up from my seat and pour the tea down the drain, “Do I have your permission?” My voice drips with contempt. I don’t know who I hate more right now, him or myself.  
“Nat, I’m not trying to control you. I am trying to keep you alive.”  
“Waste of your time.”  
I head out of the kitchen and down to the firing range. I pull out the headphones and fire round after round. My arms stay extended until they ache. I almost want to miss. If I mess up, I prove myself right. That I am a failed experiment, nothing more. But each bullet hits the target with perfect accuracy. The red-light overhead flickers. I turn and see Clint.  
“They’re back,” He signs, “Steve wants to meet with us in his office.” Steve’s name, Captain with an S. I pull off the headphones and lock up the gun.  
Trailing behind Clint, my mind whirls with possibilities. I could be kicked off the team. Ross could be waiting in the office, to take me to the Raft. I could be extradited, sent back to Russia. I’d be killed within days of my return. It is like when people drop off a dog at the shelter that is no longer a puppy. I reach out and grab Clint’s forearm. He turns around, his brow wrinkled.  
“I don’t hate you,” I whisper.  
“I know.” He peels back my fingers, and I realize I had been gripping so hard that there are marks in the shape of my hand. It will definitely bruise. “It’s okay, Tash. We love you, and no one wants you gone. Okay?” We reach the door to Steve’s office. I feel for the familiarity of my gun on my hip, or knives hidden on my body. Nothing. I am defenseless.  
“I don’t have, I don’t,” I feel my panic build, air unable to get down my throat. It is like my heart is blocking my airway. My chest gets tighter, like my sternum may collapse in on itself.  
“Hey, it’s okay. Here,” He presses a Swiss Army knife into my hand. “Good?” I nod, sliding the weapon into the pocket of my joggers.  
“He is going to hate me.” I worry the edge of my t-shirt, no, Steve’s t-shirt.  
“Steve could never hate you, Nat.” I quickly braid back my hair, the French plait managing to hold back most of the short locks. “We have to go in,” He nudges me gently, opening the door.  
Steve has his back to us, looking out the window towards the forest. He took a shower and changed out of his uniform, wearing a sweater I got him for Christmas last year.  
“Hi, um, thanks for coming,” He rubs the back of his neck. Clin takes a seat in the chair by the door, blocking my escape. The floor to ceiling windows don’t open, I have checked in the past, and Steve is standing by them anyway. The ceiling vent is my only escape.  
“Nat, you can leave anytime you want. No one is forcing you to stay here,” Clint assures me. I nod, not really trusting him.  
“We can do this somewhere else if you’d prefer. Outside, or your room. The conference room, wherever you would be most comfortable.” I rock back on my heels. Wait. I’m barefoot. Why aren’t I wearing shoes?  
“Nat, I need you to stay with us, be a part of the conversation.” I drifted again. Steve is now sitting on the couch, away from the windows. I crawl up onto the desk, which is positioned under the air vent. Easier escape.  
“Natasha, I want to start off by saying you are not off the team.”  
“Why?” Stupid Natasha. Just say thank you. Be grateful. They should be dumping you on the streets.  
“We would never do that,” The color in Steve’s face is gone, his eyes wide. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “You’re my partner, Nat. You lead this team with me,” I snort. “What did I say?” He looks between me and Clint.  
“We are not equals, Steve. There is no way you actually believe that.”  
“I’m sorry if I have ever made you feel that way, Nat. I have tried to make it obvious since Ultron that we are co-leaders of this team. I guess I did a bad job,”  
“Don’t take it personally, Steve.” I shoot Clint a glare. He holds up his hands in surrender. “I mean, it was obvious to me.”  
“Natasha, we wouldn’t function without you. We’d be a complete mess. You are the heart of this team. You went missing for a few days during Ultron and we all almost killed each other, created sentient life, and destroyed the capitol of a small country.” Steve is trying for levity, and it is failing. He sighs, “That being said, we need to have a serious discussion regarding missions.”  
“Wanda and I have been trying to get here to tell you for months,”  
“Clint just shut the fuck up,” I groan. He is just digging me into a deeper and deeper hole. I can imagine the punishments for withholding information. I can feel my feet being fixed to the floor. The nail gun shooting into the fragile bones in my feet. No. Not Red Room. Avengers. They won’t torture me. They wouldn’t do that. They’d bench me. I can’t decide what is worse.  
“When did you find out?” he asks Clint.  
“After that awful mission in Italy.” Steve’s head swings towards me. The first, and only, honeypot he ever sent me on.  
“You didn’t want to go on that mission?” My mouth is dry. “Natasha! Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He snaps. I feel myself recoil. His anger is almost tangible.  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I can be better. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I will not fail. Comply, I will comply. I’m sorry,”  
“Nat, come on. Let’s not do this, yeah?” Clint grabs my hands that have begun raking up my arms. Steve looks even more horrified than before. Oh my God. Apology spiral. Self-punishment. I can’t remember the last time this happened. And I just did it in front of Steve. I feel heat gather on my cheeks.  
“I didn’t mean to, I haven’t in,” I stare at Clint.  
“I know, Tash.” Steve holds out a first aid kit to Clint who begins to clean the scrapes on my arms.  
“Not as bad as the time I tried to deglove myself,” I try to joke, Clint doesn’t smile.  
Steve looks like he is going to be sick. And he hasn’t said anything since my disgusting display. It is obvious he is trying to wrap his head around how fucked up I am. As if revealing I have no free will wasn’t enough, I had to do this. The white bandages on my arm are blinding.  
“I’m going to go. I’ll leave when Wanda gets back.” I hop off the desk and make my way towards the door.  
“Natasha,” I turn around, “I did not sit through six years of old man jokes for you to get to walk out. Please come sit down so we can continue this conversation. And for Christ’s sake, stop thinking we are going to put you out on the curb like an old couch.”  
“The Lord’s name in vain, Rogers. That’s at least three Hail Mary’s.” His eyes soften with something I said, despite the fact that is was a jab.  
“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t know,”  
“I stopped doing that years ago. It shouldn’t have happened. It won’t happen again. It was unprofessional.” Steve looks like he is going to cry. I don’t understand why. “I’m sorry?” I look to Clint. Am I supposed to be apologizing? Steve’s reaction is confusing me.  
“God,” I wait for it. To be told I’m a liability. To be locked up. “I sent you on a honeypot. I wouldn’t have, I didn’t know. There is so much I didn’t know. I thought you could say no. If you didn’t want to that,”  
“Let’s just make this easier on ourselves and give you my file.”  
“This needs to be a conversation. I know you don’t like talking, but this is what has to happen.” Clint nods to the couch. Why are they doing this to me? I sit down on the edge.  
“I can’t say no. I didn’t even know I could _want_ to say no until Italy. But I didn’t want to go on the mission today, either.”  
“I’m sorry that I have forced you onto missions you didn’t want to go on. I never meant to take away your freewill. Ever.” He rubs his eyes, “How far does this go? If you had a broken leg and I asked you,”  
“I’d do it.” I reply instantly, the tips of my ears feel hot.  
“There is something else,” Steve looks distraught. “Something Wanda mentioned, and I want to make sure that it isn’t true.” Good God, that girl and her mouth. “She said that you can’t say no to my orders, is that true?”  
“No.”  
“Natasha,” Clint looks over at me.  
“I can say no to your orders,” I amend, “It just takes some work.” He looks sick.  
“If I have taken advantage of,” Clint has the super soldier pinned to the wall in seconds, using a strength I didn’t know he possessed. He has a gun drawn, pressed against Steve’s temple.  
“Did you touch her? Did you fucking touch her?” He demands.  
“Clint! Let him down,” I pull the archer back, he is panting with rage.  
“I would never,” Steve assures Clint.  
“What, Rogers, am I not your type?” I tilt my head, a little offended, but mostly teasing. A scowl from Clint tells me now is not the time.  
“I mean, I would never, force you to uh,” he looks over at my best friend, “I think we are getting a little of track.”  
“Sorry Cap.” He looks at the red marks forming on Steve’s neck. “We had problems, in the past.”  
“You are being dramatic, as always, Clint.”  
“Rumlow tried to rape you, Natasha! That is not being dramatic!”  
“Nat, we worked with him for years. We were on STRIKE Team Delta with him. You never said anything.” Steve has the same look of horror that has held almost constant during this conversation.  
“It wasn’t my place. I was new and,”  
“Why didn’t you request a reassignment?”   
“It stopped being a problem.”  
“No, it didn’t.” Clint growls.  
“Can we please stop talking about this? It was ten years ago,” I feel small, the way they are both looking at me. This sad pity. I never wanted pity. In fact, I don’t want any of this. I want to go back to this morning and have left my phone in my bedroom, so I missed the mission. Everything would be fine. I clutch the knife in my pocket.  
“I have seen you flagrantly disobey Tony,”  
“He’s not in charge,” I play with the knife, flicking it open and closed. “You and Fury are.” I can feel myself shutting down. It’s better. No emotions. Emotions complicate things. They are getting in the way of this conversation on both sides.  
“Nat, I’m not in charge of you. We’re equals.” I shake my head. I can feel their frustration with me. I’m frustrated too. I don’t want to be this. I can’t help it. My brain won’t let me, I know it is wrong. “Until I can convince you otherwise, what can I do so you aren’t,” he swallows, “forced to obey?” He speaks as though the words taste like acid.  
“Semantics.” I keep my eyes on the knife, twirling it between my fingers. “How you phrase it A question. I can say no to a question. Don’t know why.”  
“So, if I told you to cover me in battle, even if you couldn’t,”  
“Die trying.” I say flatly. “Not your fault, you didn’t make me.” I slide the knife back into my pocket and look up. Steve and Clint are exchanging glances.  
“We need to talk about the missions.”  
“That is the purpose of this meeting, if I recall.” Despite my flippant attitude, my stomach churns.  
“Nat, come on. I hate when you do that voice. Don’t close us out. You don’t need to hide behind a mask.” I shoot him daggers. “Better.”  
“Suck my,”  
“Missions,” Steve interrupts. I feel something snap.  
“I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore. If you need to know anymore before decided what to do with me, you can read my files. Clint can get you access. The biometric scanner only opens with blood.” I run my fingers through my hair, undoing the loose French braid. “Wanda is going to be home soon. Please do not discuss this in front of her.” I bolt from the room.  
I find Wanda in the kitchen with a bowl of strawberries and a history textbook. She looks up when she sees me, her face brightens but quickly falls.  
“What happened?” she asks, her eyes widening. When did she become so good at reading me?  
“Nothing, love. There was a mission, but I didn’t go.” I sit down beside her, taking a strawberry. “How was school?”  
“Fine.”  
“That’s all I get?”  
“Watched a movie in history. It was about the Howling Commandos. Mrs. Jones asked if it was accurate. I said they got Steve’s personality wrong. He’s more of a rebel, breaks a lot of rules.” She smirks, “I think that is why you two get along so well.” The knot that has been in my stomach all day tightens. The glimmer in her eyes melts away, “We start learning about the Cold War after Thanksgiving,” She turns the book to me. My face is blazoned across the first page of the section. Great. Face of the Cold War. I wasn’t even alive for most of it, I was only seven when the wall fell. Hadn’t even made my first kill.  
“Well, hopefully it is educational,” I grit out.  
“I already told her I am writing a letter to the book printing company. And I talked to Tony about suing Pearson for slander.” She looks serious. “They have a chapter on the Red Room. If you don’t want me learning about it, I’m sure I can,”  
“It’s fine, Wanda. You already know more than the public. Don’t worry about it,” I squeeze her shoulder.  
“Can we watch a movie? I’m caught up on my homework,”  
“You don’t want to train?” I raise my eyebrows, surprised. She shakes her head, finishing the last of the strawberries.  
On the couch, she rests her head on my shoulders. Her eyes drift to the bandages on my forearms. My arms look like a mess. Besides the fresh bandages, there are the burn scars that have not yet begun to fade.  
“Looks like we both had bad days, huh?” she whispers.  
“Want to tell me about yours?”  
“Only if you go first,”  
“You’re a cheeky little shit, you know that?” She smiles up at me and waits expectantly. “Steve found out I can’t say no to missions. Well actually, the whole team found out.” She sits up, putting the TV on mute. We never even got to picking a movie. Afterschool PBS Kids is playing. Who was even watching PBS in here? Steve, probably. Clint hasn’t watched since 2015, when Downton Abbey ended.  
“What are they going to do? If you’re off the team I’m gone. But Steve wouldn’t kick you off, he loves you. Also, you’re co-leaders. Wouldn’t there have to be a vote? Like a majority rules type of thing? Unless there is going to be a coupe. But our team is a little small for it, I don’t know how it would work. And I wouldn’t let them. If they,”  
“Wanda,” I sooth as she begins to work herself up. Her words coming out faster and beginning to blend together. “I am not off the team. We are just trying to find a work around to not being able to say no. I can’t articulate it very well.”  
“If anyone tries anything, I’ll stop them.” It sounds adorable, looking at my baby-faced daughter saying that, until I remember she is one of the most dangerous people on the planet.  
“Now, I shared about what went wrong with my day. Care to share yours?”  
“It seems dumb now,”  
“If it upset you, its not dumb.”  
“I don’t think I did well on my math test.” I can’t help it; a grin breaks out. “Why are you smiling? I just told you I think I failed my math test and you are smiling? That is not a normal reaction,”   
“Because that is a normal teenager problem, and I am beyond thrilled that it was the worst part of your day,” She processes what I said, bursting into a smile as well.  
“I didn’t hear anyone’s thoughts today! And I didn’t blow up the beakers in science class!”  
“Wait, did that happen?” I pull back from her hug.  
“Mom! Focus! I had a _normal_ day at school,” Her eyes glow, not red, but with joy. “I’m going to go tell Vizh,” She jumps up from the couch, pulling out her cell phone. Tell Vision? That is a new development.  
However, as soon as I am alone again, I begin to feel the anxiety creep back up. I head up to the roof, and notice, regretfully, that I have still forgotten to put on shoes. And it is November in Upstate New York. Whatever, if I can survive two hours barefoot in the Russian winter, I can do New York. America has made me soft. I watch the sunset and stars begin to slip out. I have definitely missed dinner. They have all wisely decided to leave me be.  
I unscrew one of the vents using Clint’s Swiss Army knife and pull out a bottle of vodka and a gun. As I am putting back the cover, a voice rings out.  
“So, do you just hide that stuff everywhere?” I jump, surprised he was able to sneak up on me.  
“Alone on a rooftop normally indicates a desire to be alone.” I turn around, crossing my arms. He holds out a pair of slippers and a blanket.  
“Thought you might be cold.”  
“I’m fine.”  
“For someone who is supposed to be the best liar in the world, you’re doing a pretty bad job right now.”  
“You’re one to talk,” I sit down on the edge of the roof, my feet dangling over the edge.  
“Depends on if you’re sober or not,”  
“What?” I look over at him.  
“You’re wondering if you jump if you’d get hurt. Sober, no. Drunk, I think you’d break an ankle.” I take a sip of the vodka. First Clint, then Wanda, and now Steve. I really have lost my touch.  
“You know, I get it now.” He sits down net to me. His jaw is set, muscles tense.  
“Get what?”  
“The revenge killing.” I raise my eyebrows in surprise.  
“Really?”  
“Clint told me about what Rumlow and his friends used to do to you. Nat,”  
“Please, Steve,” I don’t want him to do that.  
“I’d do it. If we ever see Brock Rumlow again, I’ll kill him.”  
“Don’t sacrifice your morals for me. I promise, I’m not worth it.”  
“You are. The fact that he tortured you for years,”  
“It wasn’t torture,” I take a long sip, hoping to get some courage.  
“It was torture.”  
“Just promise you’d make it quick. We are Avengers, not Revengers.” I smirk at my corny joke. The alcohol is definitely doing its job. Only took most of a bottle of 120 proof vodka to be downed in thirty minutes.  
“I’ve been thinking about the missions,” Steve looks over at the lake, illuminated by the almost full moon.  
“How long am I benched for?” I take another sip.  
“After every mission, we can have you undergo a quick physical.” I frown.  
“What if it is only bruised ribs? Or a broken finger? Will I still be benched?”  
“We’ll play it be ear,” he looks up at the sky. “I need you to work on telling me, or Wanda, or anyone, when you don’t want to go on a mission.” He shivers and I offer him some of the blanket he brought, wrapping in around his shoulders as well. He looks down at me with an inscrutable expression.  
“I tried today, I tried to tell Clint.” My voice catches in my throat. “My stupid messed up brain wouldn’t let me. It is terrifying to not have control. I knew I didn’t want to go, but I had no choice. I was an emotional wreck.”  
“Nat, you looked almost entirely expressionless on the quinjet, that’s why I was so confused.” I remember feeling emotional, I thought I was breaking down in front of everyone. “You don’t usually look like that anymore. It is nice, that you feel comfortable enough around us not to mask so often. I mean granted, they are still micro-expressions, but its um, nice," He ducks his head, as if embarrassed by the admission. I offer him a sip of my vodka, remembering too late that he can’t get drunk. Out of politeness, he takes a gulp. “What is that? Lighter fluid?” He coughs into his elbow.  
“Detka,” I slur.  
“Did you just call me a baby?”  
“You speak Russian?” I laugh. “Whoops,”  
“You know I do! You made me get rid of my American accent. It was torture. Two weeks of no English in the apartment.”  
“It worked,” I finish off the bottle, setting it aside. “I know I told you it was the worst year of my life, but I’m glad if anyone had to be stuck with me, it was you.” I lean up against him. “You know I was the one who was supposed to greet you when you came out of the ice? Not that junior agent. She messed up my plan, with the baseball game. She picked the wrong one.”  
“You were supposed to be the one to greet me?”  
“Yeah. But then I got burned and Fury didn’t want to scare you any more than waking up seventy years in the future would. I looked like a monster. Outsides matching the in.” I reach for the bottle, only to find it empty.  
“Natasha, you have never been a monster. No part of you.”  
“You saw how I looked,”  
“From the first moment I saw you, I thought you were beautiful.”  
“That’s a lie,” I frown up at him.  
“Come on Romanoff, I thought you'd know by now. I'm always honest." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end for issues regarding Nat and her freewill! There are some flaws in Steve's plan for sure, and how willing she will be to submit to a physical.  
> Next chapter will be about Wanda, for those of you who have missed the Little Witch!  
> Thank you again for all of your amazing comments last chapter, I thoroughly enjoyed every one of them!!  
> (Also, I know this Nat was a lot like Volition Nat, but I promise this was just a temporary slip!!)


	16. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you are doing well :)  
> Apologize for the delay, I have been insanely busy!  
> Please enjoy! As always, comments and feedback are always appreciated!

I pull my car into a parking spot, taking deep breaths. Pop music filters indistinctively through the speakers, too quiet to make out the words. I rest my head on the steering wheel. Yesterday had been so good. Incredibly good, normal. I even sat in the cafeteria.  
But Nat’s day had been horrible. She was a wreck when I came home. There was palpable tension on the compound. Natasha missed dinner. Most of the team had even been here, she never misses a family dinner. Clint didn’t force her to come as he usually does when she is feeling lost. And no one spoke. Tony tried to get a conversation going, but it died off fairly quickly. There were a few compliments on Bruce’s cooking, the roast was delicious, before everyone broke apart to their separate spaces. Steve went up to the roof, presumably to where Natasha was. I didn’t see her again until well past midnight, when she was waking me from a nightmare.  
Thus, I was feeling immense guilt as I drove to school this morning. We are coming back to the city tomorrow night, and I know it is because of me. It is because of the long drive to school, because my nightmares are worse at the compound. We’re moving back before Natasha is ready.  
When she handed me my coffee this morning, her eyes still looked haunted. But she forced herself through making me breakfast and having me practice my history presentation from memory while I tried to enjoy my pancakes. She is putting herself through torture because of me. And that was all that was on my mind as I walked into school.  
I force myself out of the car, slamming the door behind me. It is starting to get colder; my red leather jacket is becoming unsuitable for the weather. The words of my classmate echo in my ears. “I’m not being partners with that homicidal freak.” I don’t blame her, but it hurt all the same. When my teacher threatened to send her to the principal, her retort hurt even more, “If it means I don’t have to be partners with _that_ , fine.” That. Like I’m not a person. Not her. That. Like I’m an _it_. A science experiment and nothing more. A lab rate that escaped. MJ had quickly volunteered to be my partner, but the damage had already been done.  
And I had completely messed up my teacher’s plans of assigned teams. The rest of the day was no better. The history presentation that I had nailed with Nat this morning was a disaster. I stumbled through it, my cheeks burning red. Everyone’s eyes were on me during the presentation, and I could hear all of their thoughts. Wondering how a superhero could be afraid of public speaking. At how red my cheeks were, my eyes too. Cursing in Sokovian as I clicked the wrong slide in the PowerPoint.  
Math class had been worse. Somehow. We were doing a worksheet on composite functions when someone pretended to scream in their head. I had to leave the room, trying to stem off a panic attack. He apologized after, saying it was a post he saw on Tumblr about mind readers. He didn’t think it would actually work.  
So now, here I am in the cemetery. Skipping out on my session with Sam for the third week in a row. I can imagine Nat will be furious when she finds out. The hypocrite. I kick a rock in frustration and veer off the path. This is my first-time visiting sense the release of the Sokovia Papers. Since Pietro’s grave had been desecrated.  
I imagine the stone has been replaced. One of the Avengers must have called. My mouth is dry at the thought of finding the headstone cracked and covered in graffiti. Perhaps whoever had been leaving flowers took care of it.  
It is to my great surprised, that I see the back of Clint’s head as I approach the site. He bends down, leaving a bouquet of roses. I deliberately make my steps louder, as to not sneak up on the archer. Clint turns around, the tips of his ears becoming red.  
“Wanda,”  
“Hi,” I reach the grave. It is identical to the old one, as if nothing had ever happened. Clint shoves his hands in his pockets.  
“I’ll go.”  
“No. You don’t have to,” I insist, sitting down on the cold ground.  
“Are you sure?” I nod, and he joined me on the grass. “I’m sorry, I should have bought a stone with a bench this time. That was inconsiderate,”  
“Don’t think like that. I’m just happy someone else has been visiting him. I haven’t been.”  
“He wouldn’t blame you.”  
“You’re the one who leaves flowers?” I confirm.  
“I visit every time I’m in New York. Still feel guilty for missing the funeral.”  
“Laura was giving birth. That is an extremely valid excuse. And you honored him, naming Nate after him.”  
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. Laura wouldn’t be pregnant right now. Our fourth child wouldn’t exist. My kids would have grown up without a father.” I look at the stone once more. “I didn’t know him long, but I’m grateful I did. And we’re happy to have you in our family, Wanda.”  
“Thank you,” I turn and smile at him. “Help me up?” He grabs my hand, pulling me off the frozen ground.  
“Why are you here instead of back at the compound?”  
“I could ask you the same thing.”  
“Oh, you are most definitely your mother’s daughter,” Clint snorts. “She told me to get out for a little bit. I think she knew I would come here. Maybe she thought you would be too. She is weirdly intuitive. I know you’re the witch, but I thinks she might be clairvoyant.” He shakes his head.  
“I’m worried about her.”  
“Me too. But she will be okay. She always is. Nat is the strongest person I have ever met.”  
“It’s not fair.” I say expectedly, surprised by the words coming out of my mouth.  
“What isn’t?”  
“That we just expect her to be okay, need her to be okay. That must feel awful. To have so many people rely on you, need you to go back to being normal after going through hell. I’m given as much time as I need, she gets three weeks.”  
“She set the timeline for herself. I tried to get her to stay longer, maybe come out to the farm. It was a nonstarter. I love Natasha. She is my best friend, my confidant, my sister. She knows me better than anyone. Perhaps even better than Laura. But she doesn’t see herself the way we see her. She doesn’t see this caring and kind person who makes everyone laugh and takes the time to pick out the perfect birthday present. Or will sit up with you at any hour, even when she had been asleep, if you need to talk. She doesn’t see this amazing person she is. So, we just have to remind her. Hopefully, she’ll start to believe us someday.”  
We reach my car, and I see how tired Clint looks. He fiddles with his hearing aids, something he only does when he is anxious.  
“Something else is bothering you,”  
“Mother’s daughter for sure,” he sighs. “I have to get home tomorrow. I can’t stay another day, even though I want to, even though I should. I ruined it, for Laura and the kids. The secret it out. Tony and Pepper got them to hold off printing the story until Sunday, but the story is breaking. Tony and Fury are coming to install increased security at the house. We talked about moving, but the kids don’t want to change schools.”  
“So, everyone will know you’re an awesome dad?”  
“That’s one way to put it.” He nods over to Nat’s SUV. “I’ll see you back at the compound?”  
“I’m going to stay in the city a little while longer. But I’ll be home before dinner.” Clint pulls me into a hug.  
“Since you came into our life, things have been rough, but I want you to know you’ve made all of our lives better.” He pulls away. “See you soon,” He salutes me and saunters towards the car. Nat would be horrified that I hadn’t noticed it when I parked in the small lot. Completely unaware of my surroundings.  
I arrive back at the compound a little while later with a box of pastries from the team’s favorite bakery in the city. Hopefully Nat doesn’t see the kind gesture as what it really is: trying to decrease her worry about me in the smallest way. She won’t have to make me breakfast in the morning.  
I head into the common area, dropping my back by the door. I call out her name, and there is no answer.  
“Nat?” I try again, my worries reflecting in my tone. She isn’t in her bedroom. I am about to race down to the training area when Steve calls out.  
“She and Clint went grocery shopping,” I head down the hall, spying Steve with a framed picture in his hands. He tries to hide it quickly, but it is too late. I sit down next to him, “Don’t tell her I have this. She would shred it, and it’s one of my favorite pictures.” I nod, staring at the photo.  
Nat is leaning over the railing of what seems to be a ferry of some kind, her hair blowing behind her, held back by a pair of sunglasses. She is staring out at the water; completely unaware her photo is being taken. All of her visible skin is covered in thick, tight scars. They wrap around her arms, and snake their way up her neck, covering her cheek. But I can see why this is Steve’s favorite photo. She looks content, at peace. She looks beautiful.  
Steve takes the frame back, wrapping it in the sweater on his bed before returning it to the bottom drawer of the dresser.  
“We brought food!” Clint yells from the common area. I follow Steve from his impersonal room out to the kitchen. Natasha is putting away groceries, seeming to be ticked off with her best friend. She pushes him to the side to put the milk in the fridge, visibly harder than her normal playful shoves. I look to Steve who seems just as bewildered as me by Natasha’s mood.  
“Go home, Clinton.” She slams the fridge door shut. Oh. He told her about Monday. Natasha is fiercely protective of the Barton’s, it is no surprise that she is upset that Clint is here, taking care of her, rather than home with his family.  
“Nat,”  
“You should be with them. Besides the fact that Laura is pregnant, and you have contractors at the house, but now this?”   
“Maybe we should order takeout?” Steve suggests.  
“No. I’m cooking.” Clint stares down Nat.  
“You are getting the first flight to Des Moines. Or I will fly you there myself.”   
“My flight it tomorrow, Nat. One night won’t make a huge difference.”  
“What if the papers leak it tomorrow anyways? Then what? Or if Laura goes into labor early, or if,” She cuts herself off, looking between the me, Clint, and Steve. “I’m being irrational and paranoid.” With a deep breath, she goes back to putting away the groceries. It is almost disturbing, watching her snap herself out of that state. But I hope it is a sign she is doing better and not just forcing everything down to explode at a later date.

We have been home for a week when I finally get the courage to tell Nat what I want for my birthday. I stand in front of the floor length mirror in my closet, inspecting my leg. Gym class yesterday reinforced my thoughts. The nicknames floating through people’s heads during our swim unit. Swimming, which I had begun to love so much. But the scars on my leg practically as a spotlight on them. The sock of my prosthetic was gone, and I didn’t think to wear shorts over my bathing suit. I pull up the edge of my pajama shorts now, getting a closer look. Some of the nicknames I could hear whispered in the hall after. Patches, because the scars look like a patchwork quilt. Bride of Frankenstein. An anonymous person had placed a picture of my leg on Twitter, at-ing me with the caption _SCARlet Bitch_. It was deleted a few minutes later, evidence gone. I had managed to keep this from Nat, telling her only the good things about school. But it was getting harder. And I skipped my remote session with Sam, leaving my phone off and hiding in the cemetery.  
I step out of my closet and head into the living room. Natasha is sitting on the couch with a book. She looks better than she did last week, and I hope, not for the first time, that she truly is doing better and not masking for my sake.  
“Hi,” I sit down next to her, “Is now a bad time?”  
“No, never a bad time for you,” She smiles at me, and her eyes truly are a little lighter than they were a few days ago.  
“I know what I want for my birthday.” No going back now.  
“Shoot.” She puts down her book.  
“Plastic surgery.” Her smile disappears.  
“Wanda, you are beautiful. Why on earth would you want plastic surgery?”  
“I want these gone,” I gesture to the scars on my leg, “They’re ugly and gross.”  
“There is nothing even remotely ugly or gross about you. Those are a sign of survival, of strength and resilience.”  
“Tell that to everyone at school,” I huff, and instantly regret it.  
“Is that what this is about?”  
“They say I am a science experiment gone wrong. Frankenstein’s monster.”  
“They say that to you?” Her eyebrows raise in alarm.  
“No, but I hear them think it, and whisper it.”  
“Wanda, they are just stupid teenagers who don’t understand, who are spiteful and malicious, who can’t see how amazing you are. Their opinions aren’t worthy of your time.”  
“But,”  
“It was so hard to save this much of your leg, and that was with the top surgeon in the world. You should not let the opinion of others dictate how you feel about yourself.”  
“You do,” I cross my arms and sit back on the couch. “That scar from the Winter Soldier,”  
“Steve and I have talked it out,” she bites back, a clear warning that I am beginning to push to far.  
“I’ll be eighteen. My body, my choice.”  
“Wanda,”  
“Please,” I beg.  
“No. Besides the fact that you are making an emotional and irrational decision, that scars haven’t finished healing and there is always the possibility that you will need repeat surgery. If you want it, you will have to pay for it yourself.”  
“Where am I going to get that kind of money?”  
“You’ll get access to your trust fund when you graduate college or turn twenty-five. Whichever comes first.”  
“Then I will sell my car,”  
“Your car is in my name,”  
“This is so unfair!” I hop up from the couch, my anger rising.  
“Wanda, you want for nothing. I buy you everything you ask for and then some. For crying out loud, I buy fifteen-dollar peanut butter! You want a trip to Bora Bora for your birthday? Sounds like a plan. Tickets to the Met Gala? Done. Have dinner with Beyoncé? Easy. Elective surgery when you have already had so many nonelective? No.”  
“I can’t believe you!” My heart is racing.  
“Watch your tone,” Natasha’s eyes narrow.  
“I’m going to be an adult in two weeks, why can’t you give this to me?” My hands begin to pulse red, “Do you want the world to think these things about me? Isn’t the fact that they call me a cyborg, a terrorist, a cripple, and a demon enough? Why do you hate me?” The glass coffee table shatters behind me.  
I’m startled as her arms wrap around me, holding me close. Her hand rubs my back. After a moment of resistance, I rest my chin on her shoulder. I feel tears start to leak, catching on my eyelashes. I try to quickly blink them away. She pulls away to look at me, keeping her hands on my arms.  
“I love you, Little Witch. Every part of you. And anyone who doesn’t feel the same way isn’t worthy of you.”  
“Who is going to want me like this? Who would love me? Even Vision doesn’t want me! I’m damaged good,”  
“You are a remarkable young woman. And you will find someone who loves everything about you.” She places a gentle hand on my cheek. For most people, it would be right after this, after luring them into a false sense of security, that she would snap their neck. Instead, she presses a kiss to my forehead, and pulls me into another tight hug. My anger ebbs away as quickly as it built up.  
“I’m sorry,”  
“I know.”  
“I don’t want to be this way.” I can’t believe I brought up the Winter Soldier. What is wrong with me? “I don’t want to be angry; I just don’t know how to be anything else. And the things people think, they just,”  
“It’s okay. We’re getting there. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You and me, we’re a team.” She starts to head towards the kitchen.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Making you a sandwich. Come on, you could use a pick me up.” She begins to spread out the peanut butter. “You can’t keep skipping your sessions with Sam, okay?”  
“Nat,”  
“I know things have been less than ideal lately and you don’t want to go, but that is when you need them the most.” She cuts the sandwich into fourths, sliding it across the counter. “If you,” she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, gripping the edge of the counter so hard, her knuckles turn white. I cannot imagine what she is trying to say, “If you ever want me to come with you, I will.”  
“I wouldn’t want to put you through that,” I think of feeling her panic after the nightmare with the fish tank and the tranquilizer. Her fear of someone picking her apart and discovering she isn’t human. Of putting new trigger words in. Of someone controlling her.  
“If it would help you, nothing could stop me.” She licks the peanut butter off the knife and puts it in the dishwasher. “Are you okay? We can call Sam now, if you want. He should be at the compound according to the schedule.”  
“No, thank you. I will make sure to have my phone on for our remote session next week.” I play with the sandwich, not having much of an appetite. I pull apart the pieces of bread, and then back together. It was like they were never apart. An idea starts to form in my head.   
“So, for your birthday party,”  
“I don’t want a party,” I shake my head. That would mean Natasha hiding, and I’d like to spend my birthday with her rather than trying to find her.  
“It’s your eighteenth,”  
“Dinner with you is all I need. We can celebrate with the team a few days before on Thanksgiving.” I finish off the sandwich, excited by my plans.  
“Are you sure?”  
“One hundred percent.” She still looks doubtful, but doesn’t push it. She heads to the library and I follow. We read in silence for a few hours, a pot of tea between us. Around three, she stands up, stretching out her legs.  
“I have to go pick something up from the tower, do you want to come?”  
“No, I’m okay.” I smile up at her.  
“Okay. Well, maybe tonight we can go to the movies? _Bad Moms 2_?”  
“Sounds like a plan,”  
“Be back in an hour, okay? I love you,”  
“I love you too.”  
I hear the front door click and stand up, heading over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of vodka, and then to the linen closet, grabbing a pile of the black towels we use in the gym. In my bedroom, I close the door, locking it just to be safe. I head into my bathroom and take off my leg and my pants, sitting down on the cool tile floor. It seems almost ridiculous that I hadn’t thought of this sooner. It seems so obvious, so simple. Everything is going to be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!! Sorry, I'm evil, I know! Next chapter will be out later this week. Now that Chantilly is out of the way, Volition will stop being so damn sad.  
> Thank you all for reading and commenting! Seriously, I got so many comments on the last chapter, I couldn't believe it. I appreciated every single one! Thank you!! :)


	17. Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger warning for self-harm and fairly graphic descriptions of blood***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahead of schedule two weeks in a row!! The support I have been receiving lately in insane, you are all amazing, thank you so much!  
> A new chapter of Volition was posted yesterday as well, a fluffy side quest lol  
> I hope you enjoy!!  
> And I have a TON of fluff planned for the next few chapters, so get ready!  
> As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!

I take a sip of the vodka, it’s purpose two-fold: numb the pain and liquid courage. The harsh drink causes my eyes to burn, and I check to make sure I did not grab the rubbing alcohol to my left by mistake. I pour the aforementioned antiseptic on my leg, sterilizing the area. A stack of towels sits close by if necessary. They won’t be, I’m sure of it.  
Bits of red dance at my fingertips. I think of how I engraved the case of knives for Natasha’s birthday. That is more difficult than this. It is supposed to be similar to cutting through a banana peel. Easy. The difficult part will be reattaching the skin. I take one more sip of the vodka and steel myself as I bring my index finger close to my residual limb, floating just above the smallest scar. With the pad of my finger barely skimming the silky skin of the scar, my powers slice through with laser like accuracy. Blood begins to trickle out, but I reseal it with ease. The skin is now smooth, no longer puckering, and bumpy.  
Feeling emboldened by my success, I move onto one of the larger scars that stretches across my thigh. I shove a towel into my mouth to stop from screaming out as the skin opens. I gag at the terrycloth, tears spilling from my eyes. It is then that I notice the small scar has reopened, a steady stream beginning to flow down my outer thigh. The seal my powers provided did not hold.  
I frantically try to close up both, and they do. For a moment. Blood begins to surge out of the gaping wound on my leg, starting to pool around me. I replace the towels as quickly as possible, trying to staunch the flood.  
“Wanda, I’m home!” Natasha’s voice rings out in the hall, “The movie is in two hours. I was thinking we could get a quick bite to eat,” There is a knock at my door. I hear her try the knob. Desperate, I use my powers to grab on of my bath towels. The white quickly turns red. “Wanda? Everything okay?”  
“All good,” I wince at the slur of my words. From vodka or blood loss, I don’t know. And there is no way Nat didn’t hear it.  
“Wanda, I’m coming in,”  
“I’m fine, really!” I try to pull myself off the ground, grabbing onto the towel bar above my head. My slick hand slides right off and I hit the ground. Sweat has begun to pour down my back, and I am seeing double. My head is pulsing as I try to think. There is a first aid kit under the cabinet. Sutures. I can do that, thread a needle. I try to divide my attention between resealing the continuously reopening wounds and grabbing the first aid kit. My powers flicker at my fingertips, dying out. The hold on the incisions breaks and a torrent of blood gushes out.  
I scream for Natasha, watching in horror, unable to do anything to help. There is a crash that does nothing but exacerbate my pounding headache. I rest back against the wall, exhaustion taking over.  
“Friday, call an ambulance and the nearest hospital. And tell Steve to fly down pints of Wanda’s blood to the same hospital. I want it there before us, understand?”  
“Yes Ms. Romanoff.”  
“Wanda, honey, I need you to stay awake,” I hadn’t realized I was falling asleep. She presses the towels to the wound and grabs the kit from under the counter. I barely feel the crude stitches, Natasha’s hand shaking. “That’ll have to do until we get to the hospital.”  
“No hospital,” I mutter, trying to get up, “’m fine,”  
“Wanda, you need IVs and blood. I don’t have that here.”  
“Please,”  
“What happened?”  
“Idea,” I blink at Natasha, trying to find words, “Ja to popeavim?” I hesitate, “Fix it?” My thoughts aren’t coming out clear, “Bleeding a lot,”  
“I know, love. You’re going to be okay,”  
“Miss Romanoff, the medics are here.”  
“Let them in, Fri.” I feel her running her fingers through my hair. I’m in her lap. When did I end up in her lap?  
Men in blue come running into the bathroom with a gurney. I thrash, trying to get away. They can’t take me. They can’t. A strap goes across my chest.  
“Mom! Mom, please,”   
“I’ll be right with you the whole time, I’m not going anywhere.” I feel her hand slip into mine, holding tight, before the world slips away.

“I don’t know what happened,” Natasha whispers, “I don’t know why, how,” her voice cracks.  
“She is alive, for now that’s all that matters. The rest can come later. You saved her, Nat.” Steve comforts. Why? Where are we?  
I awake slowly, moving my hand to rub away sleep. One is clutched in Natasha’s, the other has far too many tubes to move. It comes flooding back. The cuts, the blood. So much blood.  
“Hi Little Witch,” Natasha pushes my hair back with her free hand. I shiver and she pulls up the blanket at the foot of the bed, then returns her hand to its place. “How are you feeling?”  
“Tired,” I blink sluggishly, my voice is rough and raspy.  
“Steve, can you give us a minute?”  
“Of course, I’ll call and let everyone know she’s okay.” The door closes and I turn to her.  
“I love you,” Natasha squeezes my hand so tight it hurts. I expected her to yell at me. To scold me for being reckless. For being stupid, emotional, irrational, impulsive. All the things she isn’t. “I love you; I love you more every day. You are my favorite person.”  
“I’m sorry,” I sob, my hopes of being stoic quickly crashing, “I didn’t mean for it, I don’t want, I didn’t want,”   
“I know, sweet girl,” She rubs her thumb rhythmically across the bottom of my palm, easing her grip slightly. “Will you please explain to me why?”  
“I thought I could fix me. Get rid of the scars. My powers, I thought I could flatten out the scars and reattach the skin.”

“Oh, oh Wanda,”  
“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad. I’m so sorry,”  
“I’m not mad, not even close,”  
“Just disappointed?” I finish. She gives me a weak smile, shaking her head. But it breaks. The careful façade shatters. Tears catch in her eyelashes, and she blinks them back furiously. But it is purposeless, as they have begun to stain her cheeks.  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you the past few weeks. You almost died on that mission as well, and I was too wrapped up in myself. And I wasn’t there for you for when you went back to school, not like I should have been. I never want you to feel like your wants and opinions don’t matter because they do. How you are feeling is always valid, and I am sorry if I came off as dismissive. I will be more present, I promise. I’m so sorry, Little Witch,” She takes a shuttering breath, slowly piecing her mask back together. “You are so loved, my dear. I need you to know that.”  
My heart aches. She loves me in spite of my innumerable flaws. Even though I have hurt her time and time again.  
“Please, this wasn’t your fault,” She lets go of my hand and begins to pace back and forth. I did this to her. We were supposed to go to the movies tonight, go out to dinner. And I screwed it all up. I always mess everything up.  
“I need to know why you did this,” It is not a demand, but a plea.  
“I wanted them gone,” and you said I couldn’t have it. The nasty thought does not make it to my lips. And I hate that it even formed in my head. It is petulant and spoiled. Papa would have hit my backside if I ever said something like that, and I would deserve it, but gentle Natasha would only take it to heart. A woman who would give me the moon if she could. “No one ever sees me,” I bite my cheeks, “They either see a cripple, or a villain, or all my scars. I can’t bring back my leg, and I can’t get rid of my past. But this one thing. I could remove this one factor. Have people be one step closer to just seeing me.”  
Natasha has lowered the railing to the bed, taking a seat next to me, she pulls the blankets tighter, her movements soft and caring. There is nothing but warm understanding on her face.  
“And I miss when people would look at me and think I’m beautiful. I could hear it; I knew what people thought when they saw me. And I still hear what they think, but I no longer enjoy it. Do you know what it is like to know with absolutely certainty that you used to be seen as one way, but now,” my voice hitches, “I’m still me. I’m not any different on the inside. And that is part of the problem. Beauty is only skin deep, right? Now I don’t have anything to hide behind. There is only me.”  
“Only you?”  
“Even my friends stare at my scars, at my leg. How could they not? It is right there. In their face,”  
“Do you read your friends minds?” She asks, tilting her head. Her eyes have become sharp, calculating.  
“Of course not,” I take on the defensive, sitting up in the bed.  
“Then how do you know what they think?”  
“Because it is obvious,” I huff.  
“Oh, so if you are so omnipotent, what do I see when I look at you? Or Clint? Or Lila?”  
“You know I would never read your minds without permission,”  
“Then I am giving you permission.” She crisscrosses her legs, tucking her feet under her thighs. Her hand reaches up and brushes the red locks away from her temple, and she leans forward.  
“Natasha, I am not going to do that,”  
“Then how will you know what I think? What I see when I look at you? How can you trust that I see _you_?”  
“Because I just know. You love me. Love makes you pretty. It makes you see things better than they really are.”  
“Or maybe, you just see someone for who they are, and nothing else.” I pinch my lips, irritated with being caught in her web. She gently grabs my chin, tilting my head up so I am forced to meet her eyes. “You are the most beautiful person I know, inside and out. I see you growing and becoming this wonderful young woman that I have the privilege to know.”  
  


* * *

  
The local anesthetic begins to wear off, and I’m met with pulsating pain. When the doctor offers morphine, Natasha practically bites his head off before Steve ushers him out of the room. A nurse returns with extra strength Advil and a sympathetic smile.  
Psych had come in soon after, and Natasha forced them out, explaining it was all a misunderstanding. She gave them her toothy smile that is anything but friendly and they force her to sign a waiver. She slipped away for a little while, but two hours later, she is forcing herself to be present as we wait for Steve to come back from the apartment with the SUV.  
“Lila wants to FaceTime you,” Natasha looks up from her phone.  
“Okay,” I nod and Nat hands over the phone. In the camera, I can see how awful I look. Like I flirted with death. I suppose I did. Before I can change my mind, Lila answers.  
“Wanda! I heard you were sick, are you feeling better?” I nod.  
“I am, thank you Lila. Talking to you helps even more.” The girl grins wildly, displaying a missing front tooth.  
“I drew you a picture, we mailed it. Daddy said it should be to you by Monday.” She moves the camera up to her mouth, “I lost a tooth, can you see? It’s my first one,”  
“Very nice,”  
“And the tooth fairy came.”  
“What is a tooth fairy?” I look over to Natasha in confusion. Lila pulls the camera back.  
“She takes your teeth and leaves money! Did you not get money when you lost your teeth?”  
“Oh, in Sokovia, we have a little mouse,” I quickly explain, not wanting to be the one to ruin Lila’s innocence. “She leaves a quarter,”  
“Only a quarter? Wow,” the little girl shakes her head. “This morning, I found a hundred bucks underneath my pillow. Mommy couldn’t believe it. Daddy said that the fairy must have been really tired and meant to leave a one-dollar bill. He said I should let the tooth fairy exchange it. And I said all sales are final.”  
Oh my God, I can only imagine the grief that Clint is getting from Laura. It is also obvious that Nat is already thinking of the teasing she will be giving Clint when I am done facetiming his daughter.  
“Oh, and guess what?” Lila bounces up and down, jostling her iPad. “This week, at school, there were picture takers everywhere. I felt like Hannah Montana! I posed for them and Cooper got mad. But I like having my picture taken. And I got to tell my whole class about Daddy’s job! When you and Auntie Nat come for Thanksgiving, will you say hi to my class? No one believes me that I beat you in monopoly, or that Auntie Nat is the best braider in the world!” She sighs with contentment, thrilled with not having to keep her life a secret any longer.  
“Lila, did you feed the chickens this morning?” Laura’s voice rings out in the background.  
“Gotta go! I love you and hope you are feeling better!” She hangs up and I hand the phone back to Natasha.  
“There is no way that little girl sees anything besides her favorite cousin,” Natasha looks over at me.  
“Only cousin,”  
“Laura has a sister with kids.”  
“What?” Natasha goes back to reading her book as we wait for Steve to tell us he brought the car around. Despite her insistence otherwise, I can tell she is disappointed in me. It didn’t help that I lost my temper over being told I will be barred from my leg for three weeks. Which means both my birthday and Thanksgiving will leave me confined to either my chair or crutches.  
“So, the world knows about the Barton’s then?”  
“You haven’t seen social media?” Natasha raises her eyebrows.  
“I have been avoiding it for the past few days. I didn’t want to see what the world was saying about me. I was getting enough of it at school,” I redden in embarrassment at my cowardice.  
“I’m proud of you,”  
“What?”  
“For recognizing that. Most people wouldn’t have that self-control.”  
“I clearly don’t have that much self-control,”  
“Well you know, some of the headlines are pretty funny. No one was mean about it. One of my favorites was about how they couldn’t believe that Clint had a wife and kids who weren’t us. ‘Widowhawk no more!’”  
“Oh my God, they thought you were with Clint? That would be like me being with Pietro,” I gag. She laughs, nodding. “And haven’t they figured out you and Cap have a thing?” I ask cheekily. Nat sputters in shock, and before she can formulate a reply, the man himself walks in with a smile. He throws me a giant package of Reese’s peanut butter cups, each weighing half a pound. I laugh at the sight of the candy, wondering where he would find any this large. He gives me a small nod and turns to Natasha,  
“Nat, they had that weird candy you like in the gift shop,” Steve presents a bag of raspberry hard candies with a smile. For the first time ever, Natasha Romanoff blushes.  
  
Sam arrives the next day and I am in a sour mood after. It turned into a one-sided screaming match. The levelheaded airman was not the one who lost his temper. I stay holed up in the library, angry with myself. With the world. With Sam for not yelling back. For telling me that my emotions are valid. That I am just seeing a distorted version of myself. That I’m not alone. That he’s here to listen. That Nat’s here. He offered to stay longer than planned. I told him I wanted to be alone. I am getting better at lying.  
“Hi Little Witch,” Natasha steps into the library with two mugs of tea. The room is filled with warm afternoon sunlight, the golden hues of autumn both inside and out. The room smells perpetually of chamomile from the constant pots being brought in, the mugs in her hands the only evidence needed.  
“Hi,” I close my book on beginner’s Swahili. Earlier this week, we celebrated my mastering of Korean. Before I ruined everything.  
“How are you feeling?” She settles down in her chair, tucking her legs underneath her.  
“Fine,”  
“I’m here to talk, you know that, right? No judgement from me, ever.”  
“I know, Nat. I just don’t know what to say. You don’t want to hear that I’m angry all the time, like this,” fire that can’t be extinguished. “I don’t want to be, really. But I have been for so long, I don’t think I know how to be anything else. I don’t remember what it feels like to be at peace.”  
“What can I do to help?” I shrug.  
“You are doing plenty, I promise. You help, really. You should know that.” I told Sam how Natasha makes me feel softer, like the world hasn’t turned me quite so bitter. Like I can still be just a girl. He suggested that I tell her. That we should work on communicating.  
“I have been thinking it over,” she pauses, “Would you be happier if you didn’t go back to school?” I’m surprised by the offer, she had been so adamant about me attending. “I wanted to enroll you because I thought it would be good for you to be around people your own age. But it seems to just be causing more harm.”  
“I wanted it to work,” I bite at my thumbnail, “I wanted it. Before everything, I really did. To have a normal life.”  
“You don’t have to go back I can submit your withdrawal papers. We can homeschool again.”   
“I wanted to go to high school, before all this. I just think this is a part of normal life that I was not meant to have. I’m sorry,”  
“You have nothing to be sorry for. If I am being honest, I have missed homeschooling you.” She raises her mug to her lips, “College will be better. Only two classes a day, breaks in between. You could even take the classes online if that is what you would prefer. But you’re too smart to not let the world see what you can do. You got a 1520 on your SATs,”  
“Peter got a 1540.”  
“Don’t diminish your own success by comparing it to someone else’s,” she chides. I can see her eyeing my leg.  
“I changed the bandages before Sam came. I’m not new at this,”  
“I’m allowed to worry,” The space between Natasha’s eyebrows creases.  
“Thank you for not making me go back,” Her features relax into her signature grin.  
“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll be a lot less lenient than your teachers. Especially with deadlines. I know where you live.”  
“I’m glad you’re my mom,” I look up at her, “I don’t say it enough. But you’re doing a good job, given what you’re working with,’ I gesture to myself.  
“Someday, you’ll realize you are remarkable.” She presses the mug of tea into my hand and I take a sip.  
“You first,” I reopen my book, and she reaches for one of hers. A warm feeling blooms across my chest. I feel content. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are finally starting to communicate, it only took, *looks at calendar*, two years!  
> Personally, I am super thrilled to be taking a break from all the angst and turning to some fluff because I am super happy right now! I got a new job! Quarantine has been lifted! It is warm! And more!  
> The next few chapters have Thanksgiving at the Barton's, Wanda's birthday, Christmas in Aspen, and more! If there are any character interactions you want to see more of during these family bonding times, let me know! There is also a major plot that will be revealed soon! So much exciting stuff!! Thank you all for reading!!


	18. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Minor trigger warning for discussion of past thoughts of suicide**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thank you soo much for your kind words on the last chapter! So many lovely comments! Sorry for the delay, this chapter is massive, and I honestly had to stop myself. I hit a groove. I meant to include Thanksgiving in here, but it was getting way too long. So please enjoy this fluff (and a tiny bit of angsty fluff)  
> As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!

“Okay, Lazy Bones, get up,” I rip the blankets off Wanda’s bed. Using her powers, she pulls them back up, and over her head. “It is the middle of the day,”  
“I already finished the work you gave me. It’s in your inbox,”  
“We’re going on a field trip,”  
“The grocery store doesn’t count anymore,” she pulls down the blankets enough so I can see her eyes, “And we went yesterday.”  
“That was the farmer’s market, but that isn’t the point. This is an actual field trip. So, get your butt out of bed,” She grumbles quietly in assent, and I go to close her bedroom door to leave her to get ready, “And we’re taking the SUV,” I add subtly.  
“Nat,” she whines, pulling down the blankets all the way.  
“No one else is going to be there, I made sure.”  
“Fine,” she huffs, sitting up, “but I don’t want to go.”  
“Noted,” Her glare morphs into a pout and I close the door.  
Twenty minutes later, she rolls into the kitchen. Her fingers glint, and I see for the first time in months, she is wearing rings.  
“I cannot even imagine where you are taking us,”  
“It’ll be a short drive, don’t worry.” She doesn’t brighten, remaining sullen as we get in the car. I know better than to offer help getting in and out. She uses her crutches after loading the wheelchair into the back.  
“This is a lot of work just for a field trip.”  
“Please, try and cheer up. We can stop for coffee,” I offer.  
“I’m good,” she slumps back into the seat, playing on her phone. I hold back a sigh and pull out of the garage. Wanda doesn’t look up once during the drive, ignoring my comments about car sickness.  
“We’re here,” I turn off the car, and she looks up, surprised.  
“This is the tower.”  
“Yes.”  
“You took me on a trip to the place that is our job’s equivalent to an office.”  
“We aren’t hanging out in the lab or the penthouse. You haven’t been to this part before,” She settles into the chair and pushes it forward, powers assisting. Her curiosity seems to pique as we enter through the public entrance rather than the private one out back. The only Avenger who uses this entrance is Tony. The lobby is empty, as I requested, and only Happy is there, greeting us before returning to his station.  
“What are we doing?” Wanda asks again. I push open a pair of double doors.  
“This is the Avenger’s Museum,” Her eyes widen, looking around.  
“How long has this been here?”  
“Early 2013?” I flick on the overhead lights.  
“And you never took me before?” She demands, indignant.  
“You never asked,”  
“I figured the only exhibit was the one in the Smithsonian,” Her eyes land on the new group photo that is covering one of the walls. It is the Life Magazine cover from earlier this fall. Wanda begins to look at each section. The museum is closed to the public until after Thanksgiving as Tony has Clint’s exhibit updated with facts about his family. An AR archery game is being added as well. I follow Wanda as she reads through Tony’s section, followed by Bruce, and then Steve. She pauses at the next one, not entered the partitioned off space.  
“He has an exhibit?”  
“Of course, Pietro was an Avenger,” His is smaller, and has fewer details, but so does Spiderman’s.  
“I can’t believe this museum has been here the whole time. Next you’re going to tell me the compound has a pool or a movie theater.” She rolls out of Pietro’s exhibit.  
“Wanda,” I try to hold back my laughter.  
“No,” Her mouth forms a little ‘o’, “Both?” I nod. “You’re right, I really need to get better at paying attention to my surroundings.”  
Like the game being added to Clint’s section, the others have interactive features as well. Steve has a frisbee game, much like KanJam, while Tony has a hand pulsar target practice where someone puts on a glove. Thor’s has a hammer that reminds me of the Sword in the Stone. It is a fruitless game, no one can actually pick it up. Perhaps, Bruce when he is hulked out. Sam has a drone game. Peter a Velcro wall. My exhibit, however, has no game.  
There is a glass display case with an old catsuit and a glock. There are a myriad of disguises that I have used and discarded.  
“They don’t mention your serum,” Wanda turns to look at me over her shoulder.  
“The world doesn’t know.”  
“But your papers,”  
“It was kept off record, like Clint’s family. Besides a handful of people, everyone assumes that I am just a normal person. Dermatologists hate me,” I tease.  
“I’m sorry,”  
“Better that way, so that I am underestimated.” I look at my display. The main picture of me is a blown-up photo, bringing my height to seven feet, with my suit glowing blue and my batons electrified, off to the side. This must have been just before Ultron. I look strong, deadly. My eyes are cold. In complete contrast is a picture of Wanda and I from the team’s Instagram- we are curled up on the couch laughing. Black Widow and Natasha. Or Natasha is Black Widow, Black Widow is Natasha. Wanda turns to head out towards the door, “There is more of the museum. Aren’t you going to look at yours?” Wanda hesitates, her fingers starting to spark, “We don’t have to. No pressure,”  
She straightens up her back and heads towards her display, right next to mine. There is an AR game where the player can pretend to have powers, lifting digital objects and spinning them in the air. A larger than life image of her in battle, taken from Ironman’s chest camera, like all of our photos. Her eye are glowing red, and she radiates power. “We’ll have to get new picture soon. You look so young,” She reluctantly moves closer, looking at the display. There a few short videos playing on loop, more like gifs. There is one of her laughing with Clint. And another of her and I trying to make brownies. A few more are of her in battle. But lastly, on a rather large screen, is a video of her curled up on the couch with a book, pouring tea with her powers, not taking her eyes off the pages of her novel, completely enrapt.  
She reads her description with a frown. Looking at the description of her powers, the list of her likes and dislikes. None of the dislikes are that serious, most of them are classified. This is more so her hatred of country music and pickles, not shellfish and painkillers.  
“Is this how everyone sees me?” She asks, “They paint me to be a good person, even when you mention my past,”  
“We only told the truth.” She chews her lip. “Are you okay?”  
“Yes,” she looks over at me, her eyes decidedly brighter than when we arrived. “I am ready to go, if that’s okay.”  
“Of course, we can always finish another time.”  
“There is more?”  
“Have you ever known Tony to half ass anything?” She gives me a soft laugh, and the weight on my shoulders eases slightly. We aren’t going backwards. A step forward, no matter how small, is still a step in the right direction.

* * *

It has been eleven days since Wanda performed surgery on herself. We pull up to the Barton farm and I gently nudge her awake. She blinks sleepily, a smile forming on her face when she sees we have arrived. Her dark hair has been pulled into a bun atop her head, and she wears a skirt and a knee-high sock on one leg. She had, despite my recommendations against it, thrown out all of her modified clothes after she broke her leg. I turn off the car. She unfolds her travel crutches and climbs out of the car. The sun is high in the sky, making her squint into the sun. Her nose scrunches up as she adjusts to the bright light after being asleep.  
The front door to the farmhouse opens. The house itself looks fairly different from when we were here in early October. The addition is now complete, though it looks just as old as the rest of the house, not seeming out of place. Has someone not visited before, it would be impossible to tell that it is new.  
“You guys made it,” A very pregnant Laura hobbles out onto the porch.  
“The fact that you are hosting all of us at thirty-seven weeks,” I shake my head.  
“Last time I was thirty-seven weeks pregnant, I recall hosting you all as well,”  
“At least you got to plan for this one,” I place a hand on her stomach, “How is Baby Girl Barton?”  
“Going to be a ballerina like her aunt based on how much she dances,” She grimaces. Clint comes around back with Nate in his arms, hollering hello.  
“How’s the birthday boy?” I coo. Nate scrambles to get out of his dad’s arms, running towards us.  
“Auntie Nat! Wan-na!” He tumbles but picks himself up without missing a beat.  
“He looks just like Cooper,” I pick up the boy, tickling him. He giggles and nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck.  
“The Nate Whisperer, I swear to God, you’re the only one who has any reign over that boy,” Clint shakes his head, “But I am going to take him from you, because Laura has something she would like to show off,” Clint winks and takes Nathaniel, pretending to have him fly through the air.  
“What is it?” Wanda asks, hopping up the two steps onto the porch.  
“Your new rooms,” Laura smiles, resting her hands on her back. “Come on,” She leads us to the stairs, that now have railings on both sides so Wanda can get up and down easier. However, without her leg, she will not be doing the stairs alone. Apparently, she is also hellbent on proving me wrong.  
Wanda develops a look of resolve that I do not like and grabs a railing, the sends her crutches to the top of the stairs with her powers.  
“Wanda,” I warn. She ignore me and puts a hand on the other railing, hopping forward. I stay one step behind her the entire time, positively terrified that she will fall. She makes it to the top of the step and lets out the breath she was holding- the only indication that she was as scared as I was. The look of triumph on her face was almost worth it. Laura hands her the crutches and I shake my head.  
“You aged me ten years in the past five minutes,”  
“You should see the things Lila is getting into. We got lucky with Cooper being so bookish, but Lila is all Clint,” Laura shakes her head. We walk past the girl’s bedroom, where the giant pink unicorn is still on her bed, and my old bedroom is now a nursery. A pang of nostalgia hits me. Cooper’s bedroom is now Nate’s, while the youngest Barton’s tiny room has been converted into an upstairs laundry. Cooper’s bedroom is now the attic, which he has declared majorly cool. Wanda and I are the only girls allowed. “Even I was barred,” Laura laughs. Though, he is such a mama’s boy, that I have a feeling this ban lasted an hour or two at the most.  
We head down the hall to the newest part of the house. It flows seamlessly, the hardwood floors even matching. How Laura managed that, is astounding.  
“There were spare boards in the basement, we couldn’t believe our luck,” she follows my gaze. The guest room had remained such, but now there is a second with two full sized beds. We were supposed to come out a few weeks ago and pick things out for Wanda’s room, but that didn’t happen for obvious reasons. My room looks exactly the same, all of my things that I have slowly acquired just moving places. Pictures have been hung in the same spot, pillows in the same place on the bed.  
“We took reference photos before moving everything,” Laura explains. A new addition, however, are built in bookcases, housing my many books that have made their way here over the years.  
“Thank you,” I look around the room and see a door by the window, leading to the jack and Jill bathroom. It is handicap accessible, meaning no more plastic shower chair. There is a wraparound marble bench instead. And if needed, she can roll in in her wheelchair. I look gratefully to Laura, stunned by her forethought.  
“Come on, I’m too excited for Wanda’s room,” Laura prods, herding us forward. She opens up the bedroom door and we step into Wanda’s room. It is lovely. It is warm and bright, with white bead board walls. There is wooden four-poster bed that is low to the ground and covered in thick fluffy white bedding. The only wall that isn’t white bead board, is the one her bed is against. Instead, it is a miraculously realistic painting of a muted forest I vaguely recognize. Wanda definitely recognizes it, dropping her crutches to throw her arms around Laura, who grunts in surprise with the sudden weight.  
“Thank you, thank you,” I look closer and see it is the forest that Wanda told me about. An hour outside of Novigrad where they would go camping twice a summer when Wanda was young. They used to go during the bombings as well. She said her last happy memories of her family were in those woods. I feel guilty for not thinking of this first, and for not being as expressive as Wanda. Because I do appreciate my room, and the thought that went into it. All I said was thank you. Did it sound flat? Unappreciative?  
“Nat,” Laura places a hand on my arm. Wanda has grabbed her crutches once more, the concern clear on her face.  
“Sorry, I’m here. Just got a little lost in my thoughts. No drifting,” I force out a smile, knowing it looks genuine.  
“Well, I will leave you two to get settled,” Laura lifts her hand. “Though I would appreciate your help with the birthday cake,” She looks pointedly to Wanda.  
“Hey, what about me?” I ask, mock offended.  
“You can stir,” Laura laughs. The bedroom door closes, and Wanda looks to me.  
“Something started bothering you,”  
“I’m fine,” I assure her. She raises her eyebrows. “I just feel bad, that I didn’t think of the mural. Something to remember,”  
“I’m cutting you off.” Wanda declares, “You aren’t allowed to feel bad. Nat, you saw the compound wasn’t good for me and bought a penthouse. And you designed the room exactly how I would have wanted it. And you had the bathroom redone while sitting in the hospital with me. Don’t even get me started on the car, vacations, clothes. You don’t get to feel guilty for someone thinking of something nice before you. Hell, Nat, you adopted me.” She shakes her head. I spy the lightning necklace glinting. “You don’t have to say anything.” She flops down on her new bed. “I hate flying commercial,”  
“You’re such a princess,” I tease. She sits up on her elbows and tilts her head, her silky hair beginning to slip out of its bun.  
“I’m excited to visit the school this afternoon,”  
“Me too, I’m sure Lila could not be more excited.”  
“I have a request,” She won’t meet my eyes.  
“Wanda,” I groan.  
“I took an anti-inflammatory pill and I will add extra padding before I put on my sock. Bruce said it was fine for short periods of time, and I don’t want to scare the kids.” She pleads, her large eyes boring into me.  
“If you promise to be careful. And take it off as soon as we leave,” Wanda grins. “I’m going to grab our bags from the car.”  
I find her in my room as I begin to unpack my clothes, hanging them up in the closet. Inside already are the few articles of clothing I keep here.  
“This year has been absolutely insane,” Wanda looks over at me, upside down with her head hanging off the bed.  
“It has been busy,” I agree, returning to the closet.  
“Last Thanksgiving, you had only just lost your voice. That seems like a lifetime ago now,” I pause.  
“That doesn’t seem right,” I turn to face her, and she rolls over, back onto her stomach.  
“I know! And you slapped Bruce!”  
“He left me,” I go back to hanging up my clothes. “He tried to leave everyone,”  
“What do you mean?” No on else knows his betrayal. That he tried to leave before the fight was over, before it really started. It wasn’t just the Hulk abandoning us when everything was done.  
“Nothing Little Witch. Now tell me, what food are you most excited for?” I think of the moment I realized I didn’t truly love Bruce, that we couldn’t be together. He wanted to leave everyone and run away while the city was rising to the sky.  
“Natasha?”  
“Sorry, I think my mind is somewhere else this morning,” I finish hanging up the clothes. “Change and I aren’t very good friends,” I look around the new room.  
“Don’t worry, I’m sure that soon, you’ll have memories of me losing my mind in this room as well.”  
“That isn’t funny,”  
“Peter would have laughed.”  
“You should make plans to see him, when we get back to New York,” She nods concomitantly.  
“I’m going to get ready to go. We’re supposed to be at the school by 1:30, right?” I nod. “Mom,” My heart skips a beat. I still am shocked every time she says it. Like each time, it could be a slip of the tongue. A mistake.  
“Yes, Little Witch?”  
“Nothing, I just love you,” she gives me a soft smile and heads into the jack and jill bathroom.  
“I love you too.”

We had lunch with Clint, Laura, and Nate, and now sit in the rental car outside of Lila and Cooper’s school. I look down at Wanda’s leg, hidden by her jeans. The wound is mostly healed but having her sock rub against the freshly closed scars caused my stomach to twist.  
“I’m fine, really,” she rolls her eyes. We had already got in a fight before we left about her shoe choice’s stability, Birkenstock’s with socks, and I finally caved. That is twice in one day. I think I am going soft. She is claiming I am being overprotective. She limps slightly as she gets out of the car, her long cardigan flowing behind her as she walks with her head held high. But as we get closer to the school, her bravado falters.  
“Hey, it’s okay. It is a class of seven-year-olds. Their minds are just going to be blown by the fact that we are here,”  
“Their parents were okay with me coming in?” She bites her cheek.  
“Of course, you’re an Avenger, Wanda.” She nods and we go through school security, being given visitor passes. Lila is waiting just past the second set of doors, bouncing excitedly. Her two braids flop with each movement.  
“Auntie Nat! Wanda! You’re here,” she throws herself at us, and I scoop her in the air before she can topple unsteady Wanda.  
“How’s my Lila-bear?”  
“I lost another tooth,” she grins, showing her two front teeth now missing. “Only got a dollar for that one.” I put her back on the ground. “I’m so excited for you to meet my class. She takes both my hand and Wanda’s, leading us down the hall. She walks slowly, seeming to have noticed that Wanda is having a tough time walking. Little Hawkeye, just as perceptive as her father. We reach a wooden door with a window; Ms. Miller’s First Grade Class is painted on in swirling letters. Lila lets go of our hands to open up the door.  
The room is bright and colorful. There are small clusters of desks pushed together to form tables, but a group of about fifteen or twenty children are crowded together on an alphabet rug. A blonde in chinos beams. She sticks out her hand, introducing herself.  
“Class, this is Ms. Romanoff and Miss Maximoff,” There is a chorus of excited greetings.  
“Actually, it’s Auntie Nat and Wanda,” Lila corrects, taking a spot in the front of the rug. Two adult sized chairs have been brought up front, presumably for us.  
“Please sit down,” she fishes for what to call us.  
“Natasha,” I tell her, “and Wanda,” The teacher nods and we take our seats.  
“The kids are so excited for you to be here, they have so many questions, and remember class,” she turns her attention to the children, “We raise hands and wait to be called on.”  
I call on a boy in the back, wearing blue. He looks to Wanda, and I fear it will be something about her leg or her time as a villain.  
“I heard you are bad at Monopoly. Is that true?” Wanda laughs. It is like silver bells.  
“It’s true, but I’m very good at checkers and chess,” The questions continue in this mundane fashion, of the kids confirming what Lila had told them over the past few weeks.  
“Do you guys have a secret lair?”  
“No,” I laugh, “We have the Avengers compound and an apartment in New York City. Unfortunately, no secret lairs,” A hundred safe houses though. They ask Wanda to do some tricks with her powers. And the girls ask me to braid their hair in increasingly intricate ways. Three o’clock rolls around and Lila grabs her backpack as we wait by the car for Cooper. Our offer to visit his class as well was turned down. He has not been taking the loss of the secret well, partly blaming himself as it was his birthday party.  
“Hi,” Cooper smiles when he sees us. A few other fifth graders have taken out their cell phones, snapping pictures of the four of us. Lila immediately starts to tell Cooper about out our visit, and the boy pulls out his phone, ignoring his sister.  
“Cooper,” she whines, “Don’t you want to hear about,”  
“Lila, just shut up!”  
“Cooper,” I scold, looking into the rearview mirror. Lila’s eyes are wide disks as she tries not to cry. “Apologize, now.”  
“Sorry,” he mumbles a halfhearted apology.  
“Lila, why don’t you tell me your favorite part of the visit,” Wanda turns to the little girl. Lila’s face lights up once more, and she begins to talk about how cool it was that I taught them how to say hello in so many different languages. I pull up to the long driveway, and Friday does a scan of the car for unauthorized individuals before the gate opens, allowing us in. As we pull up, I see Clint running out of the barn, looking frazzled. He waves before running into the house and returns with a roll of paper towels. I fear for a moment that Laura’s water broke, but see her opening the front door, greeting her older children.  
“Didn’t you tell Auntie Nat the big news?” Laura asks her daughter.  
“No,”  
“Oh my God! I can’t believe I forgot. Give me five minutes!” She races up the stairs.  
“You just had to remind her,” Cooper mumbles, pulling an apple from the bowl in the kitchen. I look to Laura, who shakes her head, mouthing _later_. She isn’t one to normally put up with any attitude whatsoever.  
Lila skids into the kitchen in a white nightgown, a nutcracker clutches in the crook of her elbow.  
“Hm, let me guess,” I bend down, “You went back in time to Victorian Russia and had a sleepover?”  
“Auntie Nat,” Lila rolls her eyes, “No! I got the role of Clara,”  
“I’m very proud of you, Chickadee. You will have to show me tomorrow. I want to see everything,”  
“Yes!”  
“Now, go change out of your costume before you get it stained,” she races back up the stairs. “I think she has never ending energy,”  
“Yes, she is basically the Energizer Bunny,” Laura agrees, laughing. “You know Coop, your dad could use some help in the barn, I think it might cheer you up.”  
“Chores? Cheering me up?” he huffs but rises from his seat and pulls his coat of the back of the chair, slamming the door behind him.  
“He has been feeling really guilty, we’re taking him to someone. It’s helped,”  
“You don’t have to explain, Laura. Really.” She smiles gratefully and the oven timer goes off. She pulls out two yellow cakes.  
“I’ll help frost,” Wanda volunteers, eyeing the bowl of homemade chocolate buttercream.  
Dinner is Nate’s favorite, spaghetti, and while they all sing happy birthday, Clint and I head out to the barn to get the present.  
“You got a dog,” I look at the golden retriever puppy sitting in a homemade pen. Why Cooper’s mood improved so much is obvious now. The dog has only one eye, a scar where one should be. “Don’t tell me you named it Fury,”  
“Shit, that would’ve been a good one.” Clint picks up the dog. “This is Lucky,” The dog licks my cheek.  
“He is cute, I’ll give you that.” I follow him inside. Having me help when it was not needed was a not-so-subtle ploy to get me out of the house so Nate could blow out birthday candles. But neither of us say anything regarding the topic, an unspoken agreement. I reach up the arms of my sweater, feeling the scars that pepper the skin.  
“Nat,”  
“I’m good, ready to see the look on the kids’ faces,” We step into the dining room and are met with squeals as the three kids scramble to the puppy. The dog is nearly as excited, trying to spend an equal amount of time with each child. Wanda looks on, not approaching. “You okay?”  
“Not a lot of experience with dogs that weren’t wild,” She stares at the puppy with what I hope is cautious optimism. Lila hops up with the puppy, presenting it to Wanda.  
“So you don’t have to bend down,” The little girl says. Wanda tentatively reaches out to pet the puppy, who wriggles in Lila’s arms. It jumps out, landing on Wanda’s lap, who squeals in surprise. The puppy begins to kiss Wanda, putting his paws on her shoulders. She doesn’t panic, instead taking Lucky and rocking him like a baby. Lila gets a kick out of this.  
Evening slips into night, and everyone begins to head to bed. Wanda is asleep, within moments of her head hitting the pillow. Cooper’s dour mood had dissipated, and he claimed Lucky for the night, bringing the puppy up to his room.  
I find Clint alone in the kitchen, Laura already in bed. He jumps up when he sees me, a smile spreading across his face.  
“Hi Nat,” He bumps my shoulder.  
“I’m getting there, I’ll get there,” I promise him.  
“Nat, don’t make yourself uncomfortable for my sake.”  
“I should be able to, I mean, it’s you.”  
“You’ve hugged me in your sleep. I’ll take it,” He opens up the fridge and takes out two beers.  
“Not even giving me the chance to steal yours,” I twist of the cap as he reaches for the bottle opener.  
“It’s not a twist off,” I hand him my open beer and pull of his cap as well.  
“Somehow, I still ended up with your drink.” I sit down beside him at the kitchen table. The only light is coming from the range hood above the stove.  
“I was so worried, Tash. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I should have been there,”  
“Don’t do this to yourself, Clint.”  
“But you were,”  
“And now I’m not. I’m here, talking with my best friend over beers in his kitchen.”  
“Almost normal,”  
“Yeah, almost,” I lean back in the seat. “You know, I don’t want to die anymore,” I look over at him. He chokes on his beer.  
“What? Tash,” I can hear the panic rising in his voice.  
“I wasn’t actively pursuing death, I mean, I can’t.” Clint’s face doesn’t lighten, he looks pained, I rush to explain. “I mean before, I just wanted to live for everyone else. Someone needed me. The team. You. The kids. Wanda. I was always living for others. Fighting to survive because other people claimed they needed me,”  
“Natasha,”  
“But during the fire, I realized I didn’t just want to live for everyone else. Wanda needs me, that was a big part of it. But I wanted it for me. I wanted to survive so I can live,” I hold the bottle closer, “Sorry, I’m not making sense.”  
“No, you are.” I don’t understand his expression.  
“All I could think was ‘Not yet’. I didn’t want to die yet. I’m not done living.” I run my finger over the lip of the bottle. “I mean, things are still bad. The mission thing, and I have been drifting more I think, but I don’t feel so,” I search for the word.  
“I get it, you don’t have to explain.”  
“I think I finally have hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff!! More fluff to come! Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!  
> I have so many things planned that I am having trouble selecting a path! Can't wait for you all to see what I have in store! :)


	19. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you are all having an amazing weekend!! Please enjoy! As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!! :) 
> 
> Also, I posted a little ficlet of Nat at the Barton farm post Avengers (2012) That is completely unrelated to this fic that you are welcome to check out ;) It is called "You know I do" 
> 
> Anway... enjoy Thanksgiving with the Barton's!

Natasha isn’t in her room when I wake up. I head downstairs and see she isn’t at her usual spot in the kitchen.  
“Where’s Nat?” I ask Clint, sitting down at the kitchen table.  
“Oh,” He turns around from his pan of scrambled eggs, “I don’t know.”  
“You don’t know where she is?” My mouth goes dry.  
“She is probably out for a run, or maybe Laura asked her to run to the store,” He shrugs.  
“What if she got hurt? Or ran off? Was she upset last night? Did she get called off on a mission? She didn’t say goodbye,” I feel my heartrate pick up. “You don’t know where she is?” I spy her phone on the counter. “She left without her phone. Why would she leave without her phone?”  
“Wanda,” Clint turns off the burner, “I’m sure she is fine and forgot her phone by mistake. Let’s take some deep breaths and think logically.”  
“How long has she been gone?” I chew my lip. “Why wouldn’t she leave a note? She _always_ leaves a note,”  
“In for four, hold for seven, out for eight, come on,”  
“No, no, no.” I get up from the table. “I need to go find her,” The cabinet doors start to rattle, and I try in earnest to calm down now.  
The backdoor creaks. I spin around and see Natasha, glistening with sweat and unzipping her windbreaker. She has an easy smile that quickly disappears. I run forward and crush her in a hug.  
“Hey, what’s going on? I was only gone an hour. I couldn’t miss that much,” She rubs my back and pulls away. Clint pours three mugs of coffee and turns the stove back on.  
“You left,”  
“For a run,” she nods.  
“I didn’t know where you were,”  
“I left a note,”  
“No, you didn’t!” She nods, disagreeing with me.  
“In the bathroom at your sink.” Heat rises to my cheeks as I realize I didn’t even think to check the bathroom. Shame prickles at my chest for how I was behaving. It was irrational and immature. “Hey, it’s okay. Next time, I’ll leave it on your nightstand, deal? And I’ll remember my cell phone, like a normal person.” She kisses the top of my head after sitting me back down at the table. A large pile of eggs makes its way to the table, accompanied by bacon and toast. Lila and Coop join us at the table, and the conversation turns to something lighter.  
“I think you’re going to get snow soon,” Natasha comments. The puppy plants itself in front of Nate’s highchair upon his arrival with Laura, already figuring out the best source for scraps. With Thanksgiving break officially started, the kids will not have to go back until Monday. Cooper yawns, complaining a little about having to get up early for farm work on a day off from school. I notice Clint’s apron for the first time and grin, it reads _Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica_.  
“Auntie Nat, can you tell us one of your mission stories?” Cooper asks, clearly trying to lengthen breakfast.  
“Ooh, tell the one about the art,” Lila begs.  
“You tell it so much better than Dad,” Cooper agrees.  
“Hey, I do an excellent job of telling that story,” Clint takes a piece of the turkey bacon. Natasha delves into the story. He interjects at certain points to clarify, only to be corrected by Nat and shushed by his kids. Lila’s favorite part is when Clint talks about recreating a chimney sweep dance form Mary Poppins with a mop, he then breaks into the dance in the kitchen using a Swiffer, causing Lila to fall out of her chair with laughter.  
After breakfast, I join Nat to pick up the groceries that Laura ordered. They are loaded into the trunk without us even having to get out.  
“If only she had done this last year,” I sigh, thinking of that hell we endured.  
“I think last year was some kind of hazing,” Nat laughs.  
“Do you remember the Thanksgiving at the tower where we had the football game and Steve tackled Tony?” I laugh at the memory. Natasha doesn’t. I turn to look at her. She is pinching her lips, “Mom?”  
“That didn’t happen, love.”  
“Oh,” I sink down into my seat, “Right.”  
“Hey, it’s okay. You know, I’m sure everyone would be down for a game of football before dinner tomorrow. It will be fun.”  
“Mhm,” I bite my cheek.  
“Let’s stop for coffee. I’m sure the frozen vegetables will be fine for a little while longer in the trunk. It’s definitely cold enough. And a blueberry donut? How does that sound?”  
“We’ll have to get a pink frosted for Lila and a spider donut for Cooper if they still have them,”  
“Of course,” she looks over at me briefly with her small smile, the one just for me. “You are my favorite person, Little Witch,”  
“You’re mine too,” I close my eyes, trying to erase the images of that game.  
“And you can always ask if you’re not sure about,”  
“I know,” I rest my head on the cool glass.  
We pull up to the house the same time the quinjet lands. Steve, Sam, and Maria walk out, and seeing the jet gives me a moment of relief, knowing we won’t be flying in a metal tube filled with loud thoughts, also known as a commercial airplane, on the way home.   
“You’re just in time to help with the groceries,” Nat calls out, handing me the box of doughnuts.  
“Putting us to work already, Romanoff?”  
“Well you have to be good for something,” She gives her partner a cocky smile. When the groceries have been put away, Laura begins to hand out mugs of mulled wine, with hot apple cider for her and I. Natasha and Steve split a pumpkin doughnut from the box, while the kids come racing in for their respective treats.  
“So, Steve, do you want to stay in Nat’s room or the guest room?” Steve chokes on his doughnut and Nat stares, eyes wide, at Laura, “I meant Nat’s _old_ room,” she amends with amusement, “Or will you two be taking it?” She looks to Maria and Sam, “I just want to know how many towels and spare blankets to put in each room.”   
“I’ll take the guest room,” Steve says quickly, taking a hearty sip of his wine.  
After welcoming the newest visitors, everyone returns to their tasks. I head upstairs to my room, working on my Swahili translations. There is a soft knock at my door before it opens. I look up from my spot in the window seat. Sam.  
“Hi,”  
“Hey,” he smiles, “Can I come in?” I gesture to the settee.  
“So, did Nat sic you on me?”  
“Something like that,” he laughs, sitting down. “She’s pretty worried about you,”  
“Was it the thing in the car? Because,”  
“No, not about that. You guys worked through it, talked it out in the coffee shop. I know this time of year is hard, with your birthday and the anniversary,”  
“This is what you came up here to talk to me about? Leaving Maria with Lila and her glitter nail polish?”  
“No. But if you feel the need to,”  
“Sam, we are on vacation. Let’s cut to the chase.”   
“You got upset this morning when you couldn’t find Nat.”  
“Yes, I was worried,” I close my book, “I didn’t see her note, and she left her phone.”  
“You had a panic attack, right?”  
“Yes.” I pinch my lips.  
“Why were you feeling that way?”  
“Because she was gone! She was just gone, and I didn’t know where she was. What happened, who she was with. Anything could have happened,”  
“But she came back, fine.”  
“I am aware.”  
“What do you think caused you to have this fear?” I bark out a cold laugh.  
“She always comes back. I know. That is what everyone always says. That is what she always says. No matter what, she comes back. But sometimes, she doesn’t. Not all of her. There are pieces of her missing that can take months to find again.”  
“Can you tell me what you mean by that?” I narrow my eyes.  
“You mean like when she was catatonic for weeks? When she didn’t respond to anyone, barely ate, didn’t interact, talk. Was covered with burns and didn’t even acknowledge the pain,”  
“Okay, that is,”  
“Or, better yet. Let’s talk about when I performed CPR and mouth to mouth on her for twenty minutes while she drowned in her own blood. And then, when she woke up,” I choke, “She didn’t even realize. She didn’t know who I was at first. She forgot I had lost my leg. And she could barely talk, I don’t even think she knew she was slurring her words.” I feel the tears threatening to pour down my cheeks, “Do you know what it is like, to see the most formidable person you have ever met, your favorite person in the world, start to cry because she can’t figure out how to tie her shoe? Do you know what that was like? And to know it was my fault! It was all my fault! She had to protect me! She always does something to protect me and ends up getting hurt. I can’t lose more of her, any of her.” I take deep, measured breaths, trying to calm myself.  
“Natasha’s actions are not your fault, Wanda.”  
“She does things because of me. Everything bad that has happened to her since I broke free from Hydra has been because of me. And I love her, and I don’t want to leave her, but I’m scared I’m killing her.” I hadn’t realized I felt that way, but it is true. I am terrified that I will be the reason she dies. That I will inadvertently kill her.  
“Have you tried expressing these fears to her?”  
“What? No. She would feel horrible, she would just take on guilt for upsetting me. You know how she is. She is a big softie,”  
“I think you are the only person who thinks the world’s deadliest assassin is a softie,” he smiles, trying to get me to laugh. It works. A little. “But have you ever wondered if she feels the same way? A lot of awful things have happened to you since you joined. It is entirely possible that she harbors the same concerns.” It hadn’t occurred to me, no. The look on my face seems to confirm Sam’s hypothesis. “I know its hard, but you should talk to her, it would probably make both of you feel better.” I nod.  
“Fine. When we get back to New York, I’ll talk to her. Now go hang out with your girlfriend.” I cross my arms, “Wait a minute, don’t you guys have parents? Like living parents and siblings?”  
“Yes, don’t tell them we’re here. We said we were going to each other’s families.” Sam winks. “We’re doing a combined Christmas with them in D.C. We couldn’t handle them twice within a month.” He laughs. “Come down and hang out when you feel ready, everyone would be happy to have you.” I nod and reopen my book. A few minutes later, I gather up my translating books and head downstairs. In the living room, everyone is gathered together playing board and card games, or watching _A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving._  
“God Lila, just shut up!” Cooper snaps, looking up from his book. Lila’s eyes well with tears. “You never stop talking! No one wants to hear about the paparazzi. Don’t you understand it is the worst part? Have you seen the things they say about everyone in this room? They are evil, and you act like they are the picture day photographers. Grow up!”  
“Cooper. Kitchen. Now.” Clint stands up and guides his son out of the room.  
“Lila-Bear, I would love to hear more about school,” Natasha offers from her game of chess with Steve.  
“You were there,” the girl mumbles, settling into the couch.  
“But you know who wasn’t there,” I offer from my chair, “Sam. And he is a great listener. It’s actually his job.”  
“Really?” She perks up, looking over at the therapist. “What’s that like? Is it hard to listen and not say anything?” She peppers him with questions, not giving him the chance to answer, before starting off on her stories once more. Natasha smiles at me from her game.  
“I love you,” she mouths.  
“I love you too,” I reply, burying myself deeper into the chair with my books.

At nine o’clock I head downstairs to see Laura already in the kitchen with Maria and Clint. Natasha is trying to convince Nate to eat his breakfast, while Cooper watches the parade. He had apologized to everyone last night before being sent to bed immediately after dinner, without any electronics to keep him company. The man I am looking for, however, is not here.  
I found Steve outside chopping wood for Laura. He swings the axe over his head, the wood breaking like Styrofoam. It is taking too long. With a wave of my hands, the remaining unchopped pieces begin to glow red, then break into fourths. He turns to look at me.  
“I guess that is one way to do it.”  
“You and I need to talk,” I cross my arms, grateful for my wool-lined corduroy coat.  
“Okay,” he tilts his head to the side, a confused smile gracing his face.  
“I want to know what your intentions are with my mother, Natasha.”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“What are your intentions with Nat? I want to make sure you aren’t going to hurt her.” I stand up taller.  
“I’m not sure I follow,”  
“Oh my God, Steve. For a tactical genius, you’re having a lot of trouble seeing where this conversation is going. You and Natasha. Your relationship.” His ears turn bright red, and he scuffs his shoe.  
“I don’t,”  
“If you hurt her,”  
“Wanda, Nat and I aren’t in a relationship.”  
“Sure, whatever you want to tell yourself,” I roll my eyes, “Just know that I don’t care that you’re the captain.”  
“We aren’t,”  
“Yeah. Okay. Because you two dancing at a wedding, sharing food, sleeping together,” I list off the things on my fingers. Then, my stance and voice soften, “She’s a lot more fragile than she looks, just be careful, please.”  
“Okay,” he agrees, his brow furrowed.  
“Good. I’m glad we had this talk.” I nod to him and send the wood I chopped over to the back door, stacked in a neat pile. His remains on the ground. “I can’t do all the heavy lifting.” I give him a quick smile and head back inside.  
Lila is padding down the stairs as I walk in, and it is nearly ten. Normally, she is up before eight o’clock. She is lethargic in her movements, settling onto the couch beside Cooper without so much as a word. When I sit down beside her, she lies down on my lap, falling asleep once more.  
“She was probably up late reading.” Cooper shrugs, redirecting his attention to the parade. When it ends, I head into the kitchen to help out.  
“So, did you hear?” Laura asks us, from her spot stirring the gravy.  
“Pepper is pregnant, due in June.”  
“Oh, that’s amazing, good for her.” Natasha congratulates, looking up briefly from chopping apples.  
“I’m never having kids,” Maria shrugs, rolling out the dough to go with Nat’s apples. Clint is currently trying to mash potatoes, while Sam is basting the turkey. It is a team effort. Sam, however, does not react to Maria’s news. They have talked about this before. Rather than look to Maria with this news, however, everyone’s eyes move to Nat.  
“It’s her choice. I’m against forcing one way or the other.” She levels us all with a glare, “And I got my kid, I don’t know if you noticed, but she is currently julienning the carrots.” I feel my chest warm under my sweater.  
Dinner is a boisterous affair, though I can’t help but miss the missing members of our team. I text Peter, wishing him a happy Thanksgiving, and am met with a selfie of him and Tony from this morning at the parade wearing turkey hats. Pepper and Tony had been in California with end of the year meetings until late Tuesday, thus opting out of Thanksgiving, but promising to be in Aspen for Christmas. Peter and May went to MJ’s family for dinner. Rhodey and Bruce are with their respective girlfriends. Last Christmas was a rare event, where everyone was together. However, we for the adoption hearing, everyone was in attendance.  
“You okay? You’re thinking awfully hard,” Natasha nudges me gently.  
“Yes, just wishing we were all together.”  
“We will be soon. I’m sure some world ending catastrophe is bound to occur eventually.”  
“I think Wanda meant under happier circumstances, Nat.” Clint smirks, he continues talking while catching the sippy cup that Nathaniel has chucked, not even missing a beat. It is like he knows what his kids are going to do before they do it.  
“I’m grateful that you all survived another year of Avenging,” Laura raises her glass of sparkling cider. Natasha whispers to Lila, who sits next to her, still seeming tired, but less so than this morning. She picks halfheartedly at her food, though unlike her brothers, she has never been known for being particularly ravenous.  
After dinner, Cooper and Nate head outside to check on the chickens and ready them for the snow that is in the forecast, while the rest of us go to clear the table and prepare desert. Laura stands at the sink washing the turkey pan, while Clint begins to cut the pie. We have officially moved from the dining table to the kitchen table, each with a mug of tea or a coffee drink.  
“Mom,” Lila whines, tugging on Laura’s sweater. This causes us all to pause. Lila never whines. Ever. She will shout. She will stomp her feet. Scream. But whine?  
“What’s wrong, hun?”  
“My neck hurts,” she cries.  
“Did you sleep on it weird?” Laura asks, she has her climb up onto the dining table, too pregnant to bend down. She touches Lila’s forehead with the back of her hand, and I see her concern morph to horror quickly, but the terror is gone in an instant. Replaced with a calm smile. “We’re going to go to the doctor’s, okay Li? You, me, and Daddy. Auntie Nat will meet us there with some soft PJs and your unicorn. How does that sound?” Natasha has watched the exchange, rising from her chair. Clint’s grabbed the keys to the sedan. Both have followed her directions, though they seem confused as to what is going on. I am happy to know I am not the only one out of the loop. “Nat, we are going to the h-o-s-p-i-t-a-l, you know where that is, right?” Natasha nods, her face draining of color. Clint picks Lila up into his arms. She spelt is too fast for Lila to understand, who is trying to recall what her mother spelt. Clint scoops Lila into his arms, but she doesn’t burry her head into his neck like she normally does.  
Ten minutes later, Natasha is back in the kitchen with a stuffed backpack and a giant pink unicorn under her arm.  
“I have to go, I will check in soon, okay?” She kisses the top of my head and rushes out the front. At the same moment, the back door opens. Cooper and Nathaniel walk in, shedding their coats from checking on the chickens to prepare for the frost. I had forgotten about them, and it seems as though everyone else did as well.  
“Where did everyone go?” he asks, looking between us. The silence hangs in the air, none of us wanting to be the ones to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!! What's happened to Lila?! 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, life is kind of back to normal for me, which means less time to write. I guess its a win/lose situation! But I did get my haircut and eyebrows done for the first time in months so I finally feel human again!  
> But posts will probably slow to once a week per fic, maybe twice if I have a day off. 
> 
> Hope to have the next chapter out by Wednesday! (This is actually my first week off in 15 months, I'm very excited!!) Sorry for the fairly random end note lol  
> Anywho, hope you all enjoyed!!


	20. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm posting in the middle of the day! What?! I know! Lol  
> This is my first week off in 15 months (My American readers will understand)! This means I should be getting out another chapter before the 4th! I have soooo many things planned for Kindred!!  
> Anywho, I hope you enjoy!  
> As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!

I pull up to the hospital and walk in carrying a _My Little Pony_ backpack and a giant pink unicorn. A kind nurse seems to have been expecting me, directing me to a private room. As I head down the hallway, I hear Lila’s scream echo through. I burst into the room; gun drawn. The doctor is pulling a needle out of Lila’s back, while Clint is holding down his daughter. Laura is whispering in her ear, stroking her hair. I quickly put the weapon away before alarming anyone. The doctor leaves to get the fluid tested and Lila is turned back over.  
“Auntie Nat, he hurt me,” she accuses the retreating man.  
“The doctor is going to make you feel better, but sometimes that means make you feel worse first,” I put the unicorn down next to her.  
“So, you won’t hurt him?” she asks, pushing out her bottom lip. I laugh.  
“Sorry, Lila-Bear. But I did bring you some coloring books,” I pull out a bottle of sparkly purple nail polish I picked up at CVS on my way over, “And I’m going to give you the best pedicure you’ve ever had.” I smile at her, ignoring the IV sticking into her arm.  
“Hun, before Auntie Nat does that, I’m going to talk to her in the hall okay?” I put down Lila’s things and see Clint give me a tight smile before pulling out the iPad for his daughter.  
As soon as the door to Lila’s room closes, Laura crushes me in an awkward hug, her swollen belly getting in the way. She is sobbing, oblivious to my discomfort, though I prefer it that way. I try to rub her back soothingly like I do Wanda, but it comes out jerky and awkward.  
“I’m sorry,” She pulls away and lowers herself into one of the chairs. “I need you to stay,”  
“I don’t plan on going anywhere. I’m not leaving.”  
“I can’t be there for her like I want, God, I’m an awful mother.”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“Even in there, I was risking the baby’s life. Pregnant women are at an increased risk for meningitis and can pass it onto the child. Especially so late in,” she cuts herself off, hyperventilating, “I’m an awful mother. What am I going to do?”  
“You are not an awful mother. Far from it. And I’m here. You’ve got a whole team. We can call your sister and parents,”  
“Don’t you dare,” she warns.  
“Okay, we won’t let your family know,” I concede.  
“Sorry, I’m just, this is a lot.”  
“It’s okay. You can completely lose it on me. Hit me if you want.” She lets out a choked laugh. “I’m serious. I’m not going anywhere. We can fly in the best doctors in the world. Anywhere. The top experts.”  
“What if,”  
“You don’t get to think things like that,”  
“But I know,”  
“No. You’re not a nurse right now. You’re a mother. You know Lila. She isn’t a statistic. She’s a fighter.” I sit down next to her, “You haven’t even gotten the diagnosis yet. It could be viral.”  
“Did you read up on meningitis on your way over here?”  
“Yes.” I ignore the part of me scolding myself for treating this like a mission. This is like a mission, one where I am emotionally compromised. I never fail. If this is a mission and I never fail, Lila will be fine. “Lila is going to be okay.” I help Laura up out of the chair, “Let’s get you into a hazmat suit or something.”  
A hazmat suit isn’t necessary, but Laura is given a gown, gloves, and a surgical mask. We enter back into the room and Lila looks between the three of us.  
“Why are you wearing that?”  
“So that baby doesn’t get sick. Hospitals are filled with germs that can be dangerous for babies that are about to be born.” Lila doesn’t fall for it even for a moment.  
“Mom, you have to leave. Take care of the baby. I’m a big girl. I have Daddy and Auntie Nat. I’ll be brave.” She pinches her lips, her eyes fierce. She is trying hard not to cry.  
“I know you will be honey, and I’m not going anywhere.”  
Clint steps into the hall to make some calls, likely to Tony for his connections. I paint Lila’s toes, as promised.  
She is asleep by the time Clint comes back in, looking stronger than when he left. His sits beside Laura, holding her hand.  
“Seventy-two hours. We’ll know in seventy-two hours.”  
At nineteen hours, Lila’s fever passes 100.  
A forty-one, the light in the iPad becomes too bright.  
At sixty-four, Lila has a seizure.  
At seventy-one, she has another.  
At seventy-two, we find out what we already know.

Lila’s symptoms continue to worsen, and she spends most of her time asleep. When she’s awake, she is crying, confused, and in pain. She writhes, trying to get comfortable, to alleviate the aches. Nothing works. We wait.  
On day four, I leave the hospital to grab everyone a change of clothes. Lila hasn’t been able to keep any food down since last night, and Laura has given me the daunting task of making buttery noodles to bring back to the hospital.  
I pull up to the house and am surprised to see the quinjet still parked in the field. The front door opens, and Wanda is standing in the doorway with Nate on her hip. The toddler squeals when he sees me, jumping down and running across the frozen grass in bare feet.  
“Hi little man,” I scoop him up and see his face is red and blotchy, snot dripping from his nose.  
“He has been crying for three hours. Wants Laura,” Wanda explains, stepping out of the way.  
I cannot hold back my gasp of surprise as I look around the house. It has been decorated for Christmas. Greens are wrapped around the banister, Christmas figures are gathered atop the coffee table, and homemade snowflakes hang from the ceiling.  
“Steve had us do mandatory arts and crafts.” I can only imagine the cajoling it took to get everyone on board.  
“How are you doing?” Nate has gone over to the TV, watching something brightly animated with Mickey Mouse.  
“I’m fine. Maria is about to pull her hair out. Sam’s trying to help out around the farm. Steve is well,” she gestures, “Trying to make himself useful.” She noticeably leaves out Cooper. “How is Lila?”  
“She’s a fighter.” Wanda doesn’t like this answer. I don’t blame her. If she were doing well, I would have said so. “I’m sorry,”  
“What for?” She watches as I begin to boil a pot of water.  
“Tomorrow is your birthday; I can’t imagine this is what you had in mind. Being stuck here at the farm while,”  
“Please. Don’t worry about me. I don’t even want to celebrate.” She bites her thumbnail.  
“You okay?” She nods.  
“Thunderstorms last night, a lot of lightning.”  
“You can always call me, I’m up.” The look on her face tells me she won’t call until Lila is doing better. “At least buy a scratch ticket tomorrow,” I reach into my purse and pull out a ten, “Just something little to celebrate reaching adulthood. Think, you can vote now!” I force out a smile. The water comes to a boil and I pour in the egg noodles, following the instructions on the bag to a T. “I’m surprised they stayed.”  
“Of course they did. You didn’t think they’d just leave, did you?” She rolls her eyes.  
“But what about the compound? Who’s monitoring?”  
“Bruce is there, so is Rhodey. Maria is working remotely in Clint’s office right now. Tony is finding more specialists. Sam and Steve are out to cut down a Christmas tree right now.”  
“Where’s Cooper?”  
“Upstairs, good luck trying to get him to come down.” She looks at the pasta. “I’ve got this. You would somehow make it explode or something anyway.” Her smile is weak, but the effort is appreciated. I head up the stairs and into the attic, Cooper’s new room. There is a gaming area with a couch and a flat screen, a table for his Legos.  
“Nice place you’ve got here.” Cooper looks up from his book, he is huddled underneath the covers on his bed. His polar bear, now more gray than white, is tucked in the crook of his arm. The red ribbon around its neck is now faded and frayed. One of its eyes is missing. A toy well loved.  
“Auntie Nat, what are you doing here?” I lie down on his bed next to him. “Came to shower and get everyone some fresh clothes. Making Lila some pasta.”  
“How is she? And tell me for real, I’m not a little kid anymore.” He meets my eyes with a familiar intensity much like his father.  
“She’s not doing great Coop. But she’s strong. She is going to make it.”  
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”  
“I won’t let her die.” Cooper hugs me, snuggling up against me. He hasn’t done this since he was little. Since around the time Lila was born. It was when he started to realize Auntie Nat is different. That I didn’t react well to when his parents or anyone else touched me. But I have never been bothered by his hugs.  
“The last time I talked to her, we were fighting. I was telling her to shut up, that she was talking too much. What if that is _the_ last time I ever talk to Lila? That is her last memory of me.”  
“She knows you love her. And it won’t be. She will be home soon. I know it.”  
“I had started to hate her.” I’m surprised by this admission. “Everything comes so easy for her. For a year, she was the only one who could have full conversations with Dad while Mom and I learned sign language. And I’m still not that good. And she is better than me at archery, a lot better. And everyone always likes her because she is so nice and happy. She is a better reader than me and she is so much younger.” He is sitting up now, “Also, she found out about your past before me and it didn’t even bother her. She is so much better than me! She just is always so good. And then with Dad’s identity being revealed, which was all because I wanted a big sleepover, she didn’t even hesitate to come to terms with it. She just nodded and acted like this is how our lives have always been. No wonder why she is their favorite,”  
“Cooper, she is not their favorite. Your parents love you all equally. You and Lila are two very different people, comparing you to her, it doesn’t make sense. It would be like comparing me to Tony. Or your mom. You have things you are really good at. Like science and math. You’re good at building things, and you are great with animals. And you are so protective of everyone you love. That’s why you were mad at me, right?”  
“I was wrong.”  
“Yes, but I understood.” He was wrong. He was wrong. Stay, Natasha. “Now, I think that your little brother could use you right now because he is scared and doesn’t understand what is going on. I also think if he keeps going on like this, Wanda may put him out with the chickens, and we don’t want that.” Cooper laughs a little and holds his bear closer. He is only eleven. Barely eleven. “The world is big and awful, but here, on the farm, things are better. That is why you guys moved out of D.C. when you were little. At the farm, its safe. The rest of the world doesn’t exist here.”  
“I don’t want her to die, I don’t hate her, not really.”  
“I know, Coop. How about we come up with some plans for what you want to do with Lila when she comes home? She will be pretty tired, but I’m sure she misses you.”  
“She likes Monopoly and Disney princesses. I won’t watch _Moana_ anymore. Maybe watch that with her?”  
“I think that sounds like a great idea.” I ruffle his hair and he groans.  
“Stop, I’m not a little kid anymore!”  
“Don’t I know it! I think you’re getting a mustache,” I look at his bare lip. “Maybe even a beard,” I climb out of his bed. “I’m going to go take a shower and get your parents clothes together. Do you want to grab some of Lila’s favorite pajamas?” He nods, getting up.  
“I love you, Auntie Nat.”  
“I love you too, Coop.”

* * *

As we near a week in the hospital, Lila’s condition has not improved. It hasn’t worsened in a few days, but she is still ill. She has had four more seizures. When she’s awake, she is disoriented and confused. In her sleep, she holds onto one of us with a weakening hold. Wanda arrives at the hospital in Clint’s truck, bringing us all a change of clothes and some cookies that Sam’s mother sent. She is here against our wishes, as a blizzard wages war outside. Nevertheless, I am grateful to see her and receive an update on everyone back at the farm.  
She is standing at the corner of the room when one of the worst possible scenarios I could think of, occurs.  
Laura’s water breaks.  
Amniotic fluid spreads across the tile floor, and we all wear equal masks of horror. This is not the time. She still has another two weeks. Trimesters and the nine-month pregnancy rule is a myth. It is supposed to be forty weeks, not thirty-eight. In two weeks, everything will be back to normal. Lila will be out of the hospital and back in school. Wanda and I will be home in New York, rushing to fly out to meet the newest member of the family.  
“This can’t be happening,” Laura states. “I can’t have this baby right now.”  
“You’re OB is in this hospital, right?” I ask. Laura nods. “Okay, we’ll let her know you’re in labor. Everything is fine. You and Clint,”  
“No!” She turns to the two of us. “You are not leaving her. I have done this three times already. I can do this alone. I know what I’m doing.”  
“You won’t be alone.” Wanda’s delicate voice rings out. She stands up straighter. Laura’s eyes soften for a moment, but the expression quickly disappears as a contraction hits. Clint slams on the call button and a nurse runs in, takes in the scene, and grabs a wheelchair.   
Clint begins to cry silently after Laura and Wanda leave. I hold his hand and we sit in silence, the only sound coming from the machines.  
Lila wakes up screaming for her mother, and no amount of soothing from either of us seems to be enough. After twenty minutes, she tires herself out and falls back asleep once more. Clint looks broken.  
“Go check on Laura, I’ll call you if anything changes.”  
“I’ll only be a few minutes,” he promises. I nod and climb into the bed with Lila, wrapping my arms around her. She nuzzles closer in her sleep, slick with sweat. Her fever has broken.  
“My Lila-bear,” I kiss her hot forehead, “Little Hawkeye. A fighter just like her dad. Strong like her mom.” Tenacious like her aunt.  
“Natasha,” I feel a hand rest on my shoulder. I jolt awake, and remember where I am, looking down at Lila. She is still asleep, hooked onto me like a koala.  
“How’s Laura?”  
“Eight centimetres. She yelled at me and told me the next time I come down there is better be because God himself told me to.”  
“How’s Wanda?”  
“Sitting with ice chips. She’s used her powers to make sure the baby is in just the right position. She is actually the perfect birthing partner.” He rubs Lila’s back. Her Cinderella nightgown in drenched from her fever. “Wanda brought fresh clothes, right?” I nod.  
She barely stirs as we slip her into her Elsa nightdress instead. I place a cool washcloth on her forehead.  
“You know, she asked for a Black Widow nightgown for Christmas?”   
“Did you tell her they don’t exist?”  
“Of course not. Laura’s tailor is making one, with a matching dress for her American Girl Doll.” He looks at his daughter lovingly, “We’re even having a hidden pocket that hides a sleep mask in the shape of a throwing knife.” I laugh, despite the grim circumstances and the smell of sickness that lingers in the air.  
“She is amazing. I have never met a child who is so compassionate, she is a ray of sunshine and kindness.” Clint kisses her hand, holding it close to his cheek. She wakes up long enough for me to braid her hair, I do it in Elsa’s style to match her dress, but Lila doesn’t seem to notice, falling asleep after eating a little bit of Jell-O.  
On hour six of Laura being in labor, Wanda comes running into the room. The smile on her face is so bright, I cannot even scold her for putting so much pressure on her knee.  
“You have another little girl!” Before Clint can react, Lila begins to seize again. This one doesn’t stop after a few seconds like the others. We call in the doctors, and after five minutes, it subsides. Clint shakes, emotions starting to implode.  
After an hour of Lila being stable, Clint leaves to meet his daughter. Wanda sits with me in one of the armchairs next to Lila’s bed. The walls have been decorated with cards made by Cooper and Nate. I hold Lila with one hand and Wanda is resting on the opposite shoulder.  
“How was it?”  
“Messy, beautiful, chaotic.” She blinks slowly. I only now realize the time, well past midnight.  
“You can sleep, it’s okay,” I hold tight to my two girls, hoping for morning.  
It is around six when I am nudged awake by Clint. I raise my head and look to where he gestures. Lila’s temperature reads 98.6 degrees.  
“Laura’s up for feeding if you want to go meet your niece,” he offers. I rise out of the chair, careful not to disturb Wanda and head down to the birthing wing. I find the door labeled _Barton_ and push it open, scared of waking the sleeping baby. Laura smiles at me when I come in.  
“Her fever is gone.”  
“Clint just texted me. And she slept through the night,”  
“Yes, she’s going to get better, she’s winning the fight.” Laura beckons me closer and holds out the baby.  
“Meet Nicole Maxine Barton.” I look at the girl’s baby blues and swath of blonde hair. The first child to look like Clint. “Named after Fury and Wanda,”  
“Really?”  
“I offered to have her middle name be Wanda, but she said no. Said it wasn’t a good name for blending in.” Laura laughs quietly. “Maxine was our compromise, a variation of Maximoff. It means greatest.” I hold Nicole close. “If she hadn’t come up with Maxine, we were going to go with Wendy and wait and see if she figured it out. You never did.” I look up from staring at the newborn. “Lila’s middle name, Nat.”  
“Alison?” Laura nods. “That sounds nothing like Natasha or Romanoff.”  
“Alianova, your middle name.”  
“You didn’t have to do that. Name two of your kids after me.”  
“To be fair, we didn’t plan Nate, and you named him before we had the chance.” I smirk.  
“I guess I did.”  
“Will you stay with Nikki while I go check on Lila?” I nod and Laura climbs slowly out of bed.  
“Shouldn’t you use a wheelchair?”  
“You are the last person who gets to say that to me,” she teases and heads out of the room in slippered feet.

Clint sends Laura home with Nicole after two days, insisting that Laura rest. Lila is doing better. She is more aware of her surroundings and follows us around the room with sleepy eyes. Early in the morning, on the tenth day of being in the hospital, she calls out for Clint. Her mouth promptly snaps shut. She begins to cry, loud heart-breaking wails. She cries so hard that she throws up. The two of us hold her, and when Laura arrives at the hospital later that morning, a hearing test in conducted. Lila hasn’t spoken a word since.  
All traces of the disease are gone. The antibiotics effectively killing it. She hasn’t had a seizure since Nicole was born. But she looks tired and frail. She still sleeps more than she is awake and has horrible nightmares. But she hasn’t cried again. Not since the first time. She should be giggling and bubbly or angry and screaming. Instead, her mouth is in a firm line and her eyes filled with quiet determination. It is like she aged ten years in two weeks. She takes it all in stride, looking stoic and signing to her parents,  
“It’s okay. I’m brave,” she assures them. She smiles at them, but her tiny fingernails dig into my palms as she grips my hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lila Barton- the smallest Avenger! A little fighter, just like her Auntie Nat. I have so many fun chapters planned, can't wait for you all to read!  
> Anyone else grow up on buttery egg noodles as a comfort food? Basically a staple where I'm from!  
> Thank you for following along and I hope you enjoyed! :)  
> *Nicole is actually Lila’s name in the comics! (According to Wiki)


	21. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised- another chapter before the 4th! I also posted to Volition last night. Four chapters in four days!!  
> On a side note, the coming chapters will have a lot more meaning if you have read Volition. They will still make sense if you haven't, but Volition provides background to the events. I highly recommend you take a read!  
> Anywho, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! It is long! There is angst, fluff, action! We've got it all!  
> As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!

Cooper serves himself and Nate each a slice of leftover birthday cake for breakfast. Despite everything going on, Steve had not forgotten my birthday and had ordered a cake from the local bakery. The toddler does not even bother to use the fork he was given, instead opting for his fists. At this point, I am too worn out to fight him on it. At least he has stopped crying, but that was due to a frazzled Laura arriving yesterday with baby Nicole. She left again before we were all awake, heading back to the hospital.  
It is later that afternoon, when Cooper gets home from school and we are watching TV on the couch, that we hear the front door open. Laura walks in with Nicole in a carrier. Laura’s eyes a bloodshot, the end of her nose red. Cooper takes in his mother’s appearance and I see him jumping to the worst conclusion.  
“No! You said she was getting better! You promised, you all promised,” His hands bunch into fists.  
“She is coming home this afternoon,” Laura forces out a smile and sits down in an armchair, pulling it up across from the couch. She absentmindedly rocks the carrier back and forth on the floor.  
“So, what’s wrong? Isn’t this good?” Cooper looks between the two of us, but I am just as out of the loop as he is.  
“Wanda, can I talk to,”  
“Of course,” I go to get up.  
“No. I want her to stay.” He meets his mother’s eyes with conviction.  
“Honey, you know Lila’s been really sick. And sometimes, there are some permanent changes after.” Laura reaches forward to grab her son, but he pulls away. She sighs, “Lila is doing better than they expected, which is amazing. But, she’s lost her hearing. She’s Deaf.”  
“Like Dad? But that was fine, Uncle Tony made Dad hearing aids and he’s fine when he remembers to wear them.”  
“She lost more of her hearing than Dad. Tony is going to work really hard; we were on the phone with him for hours. But it is going to be a little more like when Auntie Nat needed new vocal cords, do you understand?” My stomach hurts. Something in her ear is so damaged, that it needs to be replaced.  
“But he’ll fix her?”  
“He’s going to try,” Laura pulls back her hair. “And we are going to have to be gentle with her, okay? No roughhousing, helping with the chickens, archery.” She stands up and takes Nicole out of the carrier, “I’m going to go find Nate and Uncle Steve.”  
“They’re outback on the playset,” I tell her. She thanks me quietly and heads outside. Sam and Maria left for grocery shopping an hour ago, they must have told Laura.  
“This is all probably her acting, so she doesn’t have to do chores and gets to have all her favorite food. This is probably so they get her that horse she wants for Christmas. She is fine now.” Cooper’s bravado is flimsy. His attitude is a clear attempt to hide what he is really feeling.  
“Do you want to help me make chocolate chip cookies?” He nods and follows me to the kitchen.  
Despite Laura’s attempts to curb Cooper’s expectations, he sat in front of a window, watching the driveway, for nearly two hours. Finally, we hear tires crunching over gravel and snow.  
I head out into the living room where everyone has begun to gather. The sound of car doors slamming shut put us all on edge. The front door opens.  
Clint comes in first and turns around before greeting any of us, crouching down. He seems to be trying to encourage someone to come in. Normally, I would say Nat. But not today.  
Vibrant and lively Lila is anything but. She looks skeletal, her skin waxy. She clings tightly to Nat, like her life depends on it. Her large brown eyes survey us, and she hesitantly lets go of her aunt’s hand, a look of determination settling on her face. She takes a few steps, but stumbles, though Clint catches her before she can hit the ground. He helps steady her and continue walking forward.  
“Welcome home, Lila,” Cooper looks at his sister. Lila hadn’t been looking at him, but her feet, glaring at them like they have betrayed her. “We have leftover birthday cake,” He tries again.  
“Bud, that’s sweet, but I don’t think Lila could keep it down. Do we have any broth? Or apple sauce?” Clint asks.  
“Picked some up at the store today,” Maria offers. “I’ll heat it up.” Lila watches Maria go and then looks back to her father.  
“Maria is making you some soup,” Clint signs to her. Laura, Nat, and I are the only others who are fluent in sign language. I look over to Cooper, who is trying not to cry. Nate is just staring at his sister, understanding that something has changed, but not knowing what. Clint turns and meets Nat’s eye. An understanding passes between them.  
“Right, well we should be getting back to New York.”  
“Nat, you all just got back, and there is a newborn,”  
“Steve, we really appreciate everything you have done.” Lila is staring at the Christmas tree. “Thank you. We can’t ask anymore. Really.”  
“Are you sure? Because,”  
“Rogers, we have jobs that we have been rightfully neglecting. And you and I have a meeting after New Years that we need to prep for.” Natasha stares him down. He nods quickly.  
“Of course. I’ll let Maria and Sam know and pack our bags.” He heads into the kitchen where Laura had joined them. Clint helps Lila over to the couch and Cooper sits down next to her, pulling her into a hug.  
I follow Natasha upstairs and into her room, where she begins to pack her things. She stops, turning to look at me.  
“Why are we leaving?”  
“Laura will start feeling like she has to play host, and she won’t accept anymore help. I won’t be surprised if she kicks out Clint in a few weeks for hovering.”  
“Really?”  
“Laura, she has a lot of pride. Don’t tell anyone I said that,” Nat adds hastily, “But Lila getting sick, she took that personally. She’s not old enough for the vaccine, it wasn’t her fault. She won’t want to accept any more help from the team right now, me included. As for Clint, well I know how he hovers. You’ve seen him.” She rolls her eyes and pulls out her suitcase from under the bed.  
“But Lila,”  
“Is better than expected. A lot better.” Natasha stops her task and takes me over to her bed. I settle down beside her, wrapped in her arms, and I feel less like the adult I have been pretending to be. “They gave her a lot of tests. Her vision is fine. She can still read at the same level, do the same math. Her memory is still excellent. Her seizures seem to have stopped. The coordination and balance problems aren’t as bad as they seem. She is just weak and tired right now, but she is better today than she was yesterday.”  
“Laura said that her hearing loss is like when you lost your voice.”  
“That is a bit of a simplification,” She rests her chin on my head, “The auditory nerve suffered severe damage. Tony is going to do his best, but it is likely he will have to create a new one. Tony, Bruce, and Cho are on it. I’m sure they will bring in consultants as well. But,”  
“It is going to take a while.”  
“Yes,”  
“But she’s okay.”  
“She’s okay. She’s a fighter.”

The quinjet drops us off at the tower before heading back upstate. Natasha looks ready to fall asleep on her feet, and I wonder how many hours she has slept in the past two weeks. She fumbles with the locks to our apartment, and then stumbles to her room, collapsing on top of her bed.  
I head into my room and begin to unpack my suitcase when there is a knock at my window. Spider-man is waving and gesturing for me to unlock.  
“Why did you lock it? I’m the only one who comes in this way.”  
“Someone could volley down from the roof. Better to play it safe.”  
“Couldn’t they just crack the window?”  
“No. They couldn’t.” Peter sits down on my bed and removes his mask.  
“How’s Lila?”  
“Alive,” I sigh, “We’re just grateful for that right now.” Peter nods.  
“So, how about a birthday churro?”  
“What?” He jumps up from the bed and heads into my bathroom, returning a moment later in jeans and a sweatshirt, his suit presumably shoved into his backpack.  
“Yeah, there’s a great churro cart in Queens, you’ll love it.” I shoot Nat a text to let her know I am leaving, and we wait for the elevator. “You can fly, right?”  
“I mean, it is more levitation than flying, but yeah. I know what you’re thinking though, and Nat would murder me if I jumped out of my bedroom window.” He gives me a sheepish smile. “You’re that predictable, Parker,” I shove him lightly. “How are things with MJ?”  
“Oh! They’re great. She’s great. I almost have enough saved up for her Christmas present.”  
“Doesn’t Tony pay you for your internship?”  
“Oh, no. I get school credits, which I prefer.” I try to figure out why my friend would prefer _high school_ credits instead of cash, but leave it be. Peter can be a bit odd, not that I am one to talk. I halt as we get to the subway station. “Wanda?”  
“I’ve never ridden the subway before,”  
“You’ve lived in New York for two years and have never ridden the subway? Don’t worry, I’m a pro.”  
He pulls me towards the stairs. It is four-thirty on a Friday, and completely packed. He swipes his card and steps through the turnstile, then tosses it to me. People jostle up against me, trying to rush home from work. I pull my sleeves over my hands. We board the train. Four. Seven. Eight. So many people. Too many people. Tightly packed in this small space. Its so loud. I can’t tell if its from thoughts or words. The PA system crackles overhead, unintelligible words being uttered.  
“Wanda, you okay?” I nod stiffly. “Your eyes,” Well that answers the question as to why it is so loud. I blink, trying to force it down. It becomes quieter, my powers subsiding. Four. Seven. Eight.  
“I’m okay. Is this our stop?” I ask, desperation leaking into my voice.  
“It is now.” Peter pulls me off the train. “We can Uber the rest of the way.” His eyes drift momentarily to my leg, a fraction of a second.  
“I can walk.”  
“I wouldn’t mind just sitting,”  
“We’re only a few blocks away from your neighborhood. I’ll be fine.” We reach the churro stand and Peter insists on paying, handing me the churro. I inspect the sugary treat and a take a bite.  
“Oh! It’s good,”  
“You’ve never had one before? What does Natasha feed you?” He shakes his head, and then lowers his voice, “I’m sorry about the subway, I should have,”  
“Don’t mention it. I’m fine. Really. Now we know. Honestly, that went better than I normally am on airplanes.”  
“I can’t go to the street corner where my Uncle Ben was shot. I just have to avoid it when I’m patrolling.” I nod, understanding what he is saying. “There’s a great store up ahead that does awesome Christmas displays, come on, you’ll love it.”  
I arrive home around seven to see that Natasha has decorated the apartment for a birthday party. There are containers of takeout from our Italian restaurant, a cake from Milkbar, and balloons and steamers.  
“Happy birthday, Little Witch,” She kisses my cheek.  
“Mom, when did you have time to do this?” I look around.  
“I napped for an hour and got it all together.” She looks at me anxiously, “I’m sorry its late, and I really would have liked to,”  
“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.” I spy a stack of wrapped presents as well, in flowery red paper, tied with crisp white silk ribbons.  
She tells me stories from before the Avengers, of her days living in D.C. with Clint and Laura. They used to celebrate a day called ‘Defection Day’ for her, Clint had a banner professionally made and everything.  
“Cake, ice cream, pizza. It was a big thing. I think Clint was just looking for an excuse to get a cake out of Laura.”  
“Steve threw me a birthday party last week,”  
“He did? Neither of you told me,” Natasha accuses.  
“We didn’t want to bother you. It was small, just cake and ice cream. He took me to town to buy a packet of cigarettes.”  
“He what?” She stares at me, dropping her fork. “Wanda Maximoff,”  
“I’m kidding, he was upset about me even buying a scratch ticket. Said it was a waste of hard-earned money.”  
“Oh, thank God.” She rests back in her chair, “You do realize I’m getting old right? Is your goal to give me a heart attack?” She begins to clear the table, I get up to help but she stops me, “Not on your birthday,”  
I sit alone in the dining room for a minute eying the presents. The lights in the room turn off, and I look over at the entry into the kitchen. Natasha is walking in with the birthday cake. Artificial birthday candles flicker. She sings ‘Happy Birthday’ and sets the cake down in front of me. I go to pull out the fake candles, but she shakes her head. I blow, and to my great surprise, the lights go out. She turns on the lights and cuts us each a slice of cake.  
“Let’s open presents,” she slides over the pile, her eyes shining. How she has the energy for this right now is amazing to me.  
“You are an amazing mom,” I reach forward and squeeze her hand. She squeezes back and then nudges the presents closer once more.  
I unwrap the first present, a pair of Prada combat boots. I frown at the shoes. I haven’t been able to wear this shoe style since I lost my leg, getting the prosthetic foot in and out is too much of a hassle. The one time I tried, we had to cut the shoe off.  
“Nat,”  
“Pick up the right shoe,” she urges. I pick up the shoe and see a zipper running along the inner side, up the ankle and down nearly to the toes.  
“How?”  
“I went to a cobbler and had him modify the shoes to be adaptive,” she gestures to the pile of presents, “Most of these are shoes.” I throw my arms around her.  
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She brushes back my hair.  
“Come on, you still have more to open,” There is a Burberry scarf, three more pairs of shoes as promised, and a new set of rings.  
“This was amazing,”  
“Hold on, I have one more,” Nat gets up from her seat and heads over to the hutch in the dining room, pulling out a package wrapped in silver paper. Based on her apprehension, I can tell this is the big present, the one she put the most thought into. I unwrap the paper carefully, feeling her anticipation.  
A glass case with wood base sits amongst the shreds of paper. Carved into the wood is the quote, “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”  
Within the case is the most beautiful version of the book I had ever seen. It is bound in creamy leather and embossed with vines of pale pink roses and gold. A certificate of authentication is taped to the back of the case- 1895. According to the document, it took forty-five women to make this book. _A Midsummer Night's Dream_.  
“My Little Witch, fierce and strong. A good fighter, brave, and stands up for what she believes in.”  
“It is beautiful,” I stare at the antique.  
“Just like you.”  
“Thank you, Mom. You didn’t have to do all this, not with everything that is going on.”  
“I know, I wanted to. Birthdays are hard for you,” I think of Steve running into my room the night of my birthday as I scream from my nightmare, feeling Pietro die, a piece of myself going missing. Forever fifteen. “And you deserve to be recognized. You are kind, smart, and thoughtful. I love you.”  
“I love you too,”

Two nights later, around four in the morning, my phone begins to buzz. I try to press ignore, but it continues to blare. Meaning it is a call for assembly. I rub the sleep from my eyes and stretch, pulling on my leg. After changing into my uniform and pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I head out of my bedroom. It is to my surprise, though I really shouldn’t be surprised, that Natasha is sitting at the counter with two to-go cups of coffee and wearing her catsuit. I know better than to say anything, but it is too early for this fight between her and Steve.  
We beat the quinjet to the tower by two minutes. Steve, Sam, and Tony are waiting inside. All of them have their eyes glued to Natasha as she boards.  
“Nat,” Steve begins, “When you told me about this mission, I didn’t think you’d be coming.”  
“You’re the one who got us up before dawn?” I accuse.  
“I got a hit, Steve. We can’t just let him run loose.”  
“I’m not saying that. I’m just wondering if,”  
“If I am ready for the field? Are you going to order me to stay behind, Captain? Because every minute we wait, Rumlow is having a chance to get away.” Steve nods to Tony, who begins to fly the quinjet out. A mission briefing appears on my phone. When did she have time to write this? How?  
“Tasha,”  
“You don’t get to call me that.”  
“Right, sorry. You’re right.” It occurs to me now I have never heard anyone call her Tasha, which seems like a natural nickname for her. “I’m just worried about you.”  
“And I’m worried about you. We had a deal about Rumlow, and I’m scared you won’t hold up your end of the bargain.” The two of them stare at each other, and it becomes a battle of wills. Steve steps forward and places a hand on the small of her back, guiding her to a more secluded part of the jet.  
When they return a few minutes later, Natasha announces she will be running ops back on the jet but will be prepared to go in the field as back up if necessary. She sits down next to me and we begin to go over the mission parameters together.  
“Wanda, do not do anything brash or stupid,” She reminds me as we near Tijuana.  
“What deal did you make with Steve?”  
“It’s not important, love.” The look on Steve’s face says otherwise because he seems to be glowering in our direction.  
It is nearly two o’clock in the morning when we arrive, three hour time difference in mind, and the jet’s cloaking is still on. Natasha gives me a tight hug, almost crushing me.  
“Stay on coms. Do you understand? If I don’t hear from you every five minutes,”  
“I’m an adult now.”  
“Not really.” She fixes my ponytail. “Just promise me.”  
“Yes, I promise. I love you.”  
“I love you too.” Steve goes over to her once more, and they speak too quietly for me to hear.  
“Alright, let’s move out. You know your roles.” He nods to Sam and Tony, who fly off into the night. We head towards the building where the transactions is supposed to be taking place. How Natasha maintains connections with the underbelly of the world is a marvel, she has been on the opposite side for more than a decade now. Perhaps she is just that threatening and scary. Though it is hard to imagine.  
The building has recently been abandoned, some items are yet to be looted, and fresh graffiti mars the walls. It is a little shop that was once the manufacturing location for tourist gifts, based off the few scraps that remain. A box of doll heads sends shivers up my spine.  
“The exchange is supposed to be done in the basement.” Steve explains.  
“The basement of an abandoned toy factory, great. Super.” I flex my fingers. The building is eerily silent as we make out way down the cellar stairs.  
Suddenly, Steve is flying towards the wall. He battles with a man covered in dark armor. Before I can assist him, I have four guys on me. I punch with powered blasts. If possible, we are supposed to take them back alive to be tried for treason against the US government. It would be easier to just take them down with mind control and call it a day, but they are moving too fast for me to work my magic. _Work my magic_ , I pause. That’s funny. I feel a fist fly too close to my face and send him backwards. He hits the wall with a crack, and I know he is dead.  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to kill him,” I turn to Steve  
“What did you say?” He shouts, but not to me, to the man I now presume to be Rumlow. “What did you say?”  
“He remembered you. Your pal, your buddy, your Bucky,” I hear a sickening crack and wince as Steve groans and is thrown across the room, collapsing to the ground. I choose to run over to him rather than the retreating villain.  
“No! Don’t let him go, Wanda,” My leg locks in place and I stumble, barely stopping my nose from meeting concrete. Rumlow mock salutes us and runs up the stairs, the surviving lackeys behind him. “Kid, are you okay?”  
“My leg locked up. I’ve never had it do that before.”  
“Hey guys, we could use a little help,” Steve speaks into the coms. No reply. I try. Nothing. Our cell phones are out too. “An EMP,” Steve groans. I pull myself off the ground and over to him, the locked leg offering at least a little support. I yelp in surprise when there is an explosion, the stairs detonating. I dive forward and crash into Steve, throwing up a forcefield as bits of burning wood fly at us.  
“I think that was meant for us.” I turn to the super soldier. “He probably thought we would be on the stairs by now.”  
“Breaking my femur, not part of the plan.” Steve agrees. “Rumlow’s always been aggressive.” He rests his head against the wall.  
“The coms are out,” I feel the acid in my empty stomach rising up.  
“I know, but Tony and Sam know,”  
“Natasha.” Natasha is on the quinjet, likely freaking out as well all just lost communication with her. She is going to come out and get herself killed. “Rumlow, what is the deal with him and Natasha?”  
“They used to work together at SHIELD.” Steve replies cagily.  
“Would he know about?”  
“I don’t think so,” Steve rubs his face. “Can you fly us out of here?” I shake my head. “Well, then let’s hope Tony and Sam get us out of here in the next five minutes before Natasha storms the place.  
An hour later, a lithe figure jumps through the hole where the stairs used to be, landing gracefully like a cat. I light up the room with my hand and see a blood drenched Natasha. She looks like Carrie. Her breaths come in pants, and I notice the batons in her hands crackling with electricity. She clicks the two weapons together, forming a staff, before collapsing it completely to an item small enough to stick in her jacket pocket.  
“You two,” She blinks quickly, trying to stop blood from dripping her eyes.  
“Are you okay?” Steve asks, staring at her, covered in red.  
“Am _I_ okay? Jesus Christ,”  
“There was an EMP, the coms went out. My leg died, and Steve’s femur is broken.”  
“I don’t care. Why they hell are you two waiting down here? Am I going to have to rescue you every time you two go on a mission together?”  
“They blew out the stairs!” Steve points out. Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.  
“Did you even bother to look around? Or study the floor plans I sent out?” Natasha clicks on her flashlight and shines it at a second set of stairs across the room, leading to a bulkhead. “Has there ever been a less competent duo? Am I the only one with a brain cell on the team? Do we all share one and I have sole custody? Because I swear, the pair of you,”  
“We’re sorry, really. But Nat, can you save the lecture for after we set my leg?”  
“I should let it heal improperly,” She hisses, helping him up. “You both scared the hell out of me.” We both use her to support us as we make our way to the stairs. “I sent Falcon and Ironman after Rumlow; he’ll probably get away.”  
“The help?” Steve asks.  
“I’m wearing them.” She bites back. “I thought you two were dead. You two idiots! I can’t believe you. Next time, instead of lecturing me on the plane, read the fucking mission briefing that I type up. You think I do those for fun? Like a cutesy little memento from our time taking out terrorists? A new page for the scrap book?” Steve begins to apologize. “And you, maybe you couldn’t have flown both of you up, but you could have gone for help. Rogers isn’t exactly unstable.”  
“You called us in for a mission in the middle of the night,” I whine.  
“You’re writing the mission report, in Arabic,” She tells me.  
“I don’t know Arabic,”  
“You’ll figure it out.”  
“Nat, I don’t know Arabic either, how am I supposed to input it into the system.”  
“Like I said to her, you’ll figure it out.”  
“So, I guess this means you’re back in the field,” I add as we reach the street.  
“Apparently.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badass Nat rescuing her two dumbasses, love to see it. To be fair to Steve, he had a lot of reasons to be distracted. Rumlow for what happened with Nat, and what he said about Bucky. And Wanda is still learning  
> And I know Nat’s behavior at the end may seem out of character, especially towards Wanda, but PTSD’s symptoms include irritability and hostility. The last time Steve and Wanda went on a mission, Wanda lost her leg. Okay sorry for the long note!  
> Next chapter will be up hopefully by Wednesday, but I'm not sure because I will be starting my new job. Hope all my American readers have a happy holiday weekend!


	22. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning for unhealthy coping mechanisms**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bear tidings of comfort and angst! Enjoy this holiday chapter that is 2x my usual chapter length to make up for the seriously long delay! I'm so sorry. I started a new job this week and my mom was visiting, so I didn't have much time to write. I hope you all are staying safe and healthy!! As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated.

We arrive back at quinjet where Tony and Sam are already waiting. They rush forward to me, ignoring my injured companions.  
“Natasha, oh my God. Are you okay?”  
“Not my blood.” I help Steve and Wanda to their seats, and I take my usual spot between them. Sam and Steve exchange a look, and then Sam takes Tony up to the cockpit.  
“Nat,” Steve says gently.  
“How is your leg?” I interrupt.  
“I’m fine. It will be completely healed in two days. Are you okay?” I nod.  
“Mom,” I look to Wanda, her blue eyes are wide with concern. I think for a moment and do a check on my body for an injury I may have ignored. Maybe I didn’t notice it in the adrenaline of the fight? But I am completely uninjured.  
“Go wash off the blood,” I feel myself start to obey before I can stop and end up doing an awkward lurch. “Natasha, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. It was a suggestion.” His face has a tight, pained expression to it that wasn’t there before, despite the broken leg. I seem to be causing him nothing but pain at every turn. Wanda reaches forward and pulls me back down to my seat.  
“Why are you all looking at me like that?”  
“You’re doing the flat thing,” Wanda explains.  
“I’m fine.” I push down the nerves that are threatening to explode. It was too familiar, have to rescue the pair. It reminded me too much of when Wanda lost her leg. I lost it, I slipped. It wasn’t until I jumped into the hole and saw them on the floor, in the glow of my batons, that everything came back into focus. I was merciless in my killings and am thankful there was another way out of the basement. The massacre upstairs is not something I want either of them to see. The dismembered bodies. Blood. So much blood. Dripping in red. Like my ledger.  
Someone is tugging gently on my hand. Brown eyes and a goatee. Tony. I pull it quickly from his grasp and look around the jet. We are the only two here. I stand up and stumble, feeling slightly drunk.  
“Red, you okay?”  
“Where’s Wanda?”  
“She’s getting her prosthetic reset.”  
“I should wash off this blood,” I add absently, looking at the dried bits flaking off my hands.  
“That’s a good idea, do you want some help getting to your room?”  
“I’m not injured.” I glare at him; I just want to be back at the apartment. “I don’t have a car here,”  
“What?” he looks at me incredulously. He had started to guide me down the ramp of the quinjet and I pull away, irritated by his help.  
“You brought us to the Compound, we left from the Tower.”  
“I will give you a ride down to the city once Wanda’s leg is all set, deal?”   
“Fine.” I dig my fingernails into my palms, the slight pain seeming to alleviate the fogginess that had settled in my head.  
I slip under the water. I count to one hundred. Then two. Making it to five hundred. I emerge from the rust colored water, gasping for air. The spots in my vision quickly subside. I’m in control. Wanda is fine. No one died or got seriously injured. I didn’t hurt them. But I was a monster, unhinged. As I stand on my white bathmat, still dripping with the blood of my enemies, it is impossible to ignore the burn scars that cover my body. Or the thick, gory one from where they had to scrape my bone. I can feel the heat beginning to rise up. Flame licking at my body. The suit melting into my skin. I jump into the cold shower, and it is jolting enough to stop the thoughts in their tracks.  
After the customary three rounds of shampoo it takes to get out all the blood, I dry off and change into fresh clothes. The jeans and sweater do an excellent job hiding the burns. No one else has mentioned that I have been dressing more conservative lately. Avoidance. Avoiding my problems. What is it that they say? I am an expert at compartmentalizing. Which is why, as I head into the common room, I am able to kiss my daughters head and playfully shove Sam’s shoulder just hours after slaughtering six people.  
“Are you okay?” Wanda whispers as I sit down next to her on the couch. She is without her leg, meaning Tony and Bruce are still working on it.  
“Of course, love,” I begin to braid back her hair, “You don’t have to worry about me.”  
“On the quinjet, you slipped away for a little while. You haven’t done that in a long time.”  
“It just reminded me of finding you and Steve at that slaughterhouse. I am okay now.” I go back to braiding her hair and tie it off with the hair elastic she passes me.  
“Did you call Clint?”  
“Wanda,” I warn.  
“I’m an adult now, you don’t have to worry about me so much anymore. Really.”  
“I will never stop worrying about you.” She pulls me into a hug, still dirty and sweaty from the fight, a slight smell of smoke lingers on her skin. I feel my heartbeat quicken, and I know she does too. She pulls away and I force out a smile, “You need to take a shower,” I crinkle my nose, teasing. I hand her the crutches on the coffee table, and she heads off to the bathroom.  
When she returns, Tony is just bringing in her leg, electrified once more. Wanda is thrilled to have it back, sliding it onto her stump and pulling down her skirt.  
“That shouldn’t happen again, it is now EMP-proof.” Tony promises us both.  
The ride home is quick, as we hit hardly any traffic. Back in the apartment, I order dinner and begin to sort through the mail.  
“Nat,” Wanda begins. I look up at her and see her biting her bottom lip.  
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” I do a quick examination and see no obvious injuries from my spot in the kitchen.  
“No. I’m fine.” She sits down at the island. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest.” I put down the pile of catalogs and nod. “I have noticed, you don’t really let anyone hug you, except for the kids, because they don’t know any better, and,” I see red begin to dance at her fingertips, “When I hug you, does it make you uncomfortable?” She pulls her sleeves over her hands. “Today, you pulled away. And you don’t like being touched, and,”  
“Oh, no, no, no.” I go over to her counter stool, “My sweet girl, not at all. You can hug me as often as you want. I love your hugs, you’re my favorite person.”  
“But you don’t let anyone else hug you,”  
“For most of my life,” I pull her sleeves up from her hands, “The only time someone was touching me, was to hurt me.” The rings I got her for her birthday glint under the light. “But things have changed. I have even let Clint hug me on occasions. But your hugs, are always welcome,”  
“But today, I felt you stiffen when I hugged you. And your heartbeat picked up.”  
“You smelt like smoke from the explosion. That’s all.” Her eyes begin to brim with tears.  
“That was so inconsiderate of me! I didn’t even think,”  
“Wanda, stop. It was just me being weak,” She opens her mouth to argue with me, “I love you. You are very thoughtful and caring. You are not insensitive. You had just gotten back from a dangerous mission and I am happy I could be there for you.” I place my hands on her shoulders. “I love you, Little Witch.”

* * *

Tony’s plane begins to make its descent onto the Barton farm. As the door opens, I get up from my seat and head down the stairs.  
The family of six is waiting with a plethora of suitcases and jackets. Nate come bombing towards me and I scoop him up in the air. Cooper gives me a small smile before boarding the plane, taking Nate with him. Laura boards with Nicole in her carrier, and I look to Clint and Lila. Lila is hooked onto her father, her face buried in his shoulder.  
“Asleep,” Clint explains.  
“How has she been doing?” Steve and Tony finish loading up the suitcases and we climb back onto the plane.  
“Her balance is getting better. She still needs some help, but she can walk across the living room on her own.” He places her in the seat next to him, across from Wanda. “She cried for three hours when she realized she wouldn’t be able to be Clara in her ballet recital.”  
“Next year,” I look at the sleeping little girl.  
“Nat,”  
“You’re a deaf superhero, she can dance.” Wanda, also asleep, stirs slightly before resting once more.  
“She hasn’t been acting like herself. She hasn’t said a word since we left the hospital.”  
“You have her in therapy though,”  
“Of course. But she is angry and frustrated,”  
“You know what she is going through, you went through the same thing.”  
“I know. That’s what makes this so much worse. I understand exactly how she is feeling.”  
“Then you know what you need to do to be there for her.”  
“Steve called me,” He switches over to signing. “He was upset.”  
“He hasn’t talked to me since our mission two weeks ago. I wouldn’t know.”  
“That is why he’s upset, dumbass. He saw the crime scene photos after, you weren’t ready to go back in the field. He hates that you had to do that to save him and Wanda.”  
“We’re teammates.”  
“And he was upset about telling you to do something on the quinjet. He wanted to know if you were mad at him.” Him suggesting I go wash off the blood. I hadn’t even thought about it. I tell Clint as much.  
“Is he mad at me? For how I killed those men?”  
“No. He’s mad at himself, Tash.”  
“I wasn’t given the mission. I wasn’t commanded. I left the quinjet on my own volition.”  
“I think you have to tell him that. He’s been beating himself up for weeks. If I get one more nervous phone call from him, he’s getting blocked. Saving the world be damned.”  
“I’ll talk to him this week, okay?”  
“I had to convince him you still wanted him on this trip,” Clint rubs sleeping Lila’s back, “I told him if you didn’t, you would have uninvited him.” I look over Clint’s shoulder at Steve, who is talking with Cooper.  
“He is being too sensitive.” I scoff.  
“Steve just cares about you, Nat.” I roll my eyes and prop my feet up on his seat. He gives me an odd look and pulls out one of his books.  
Wanda wakes and gets up to say hi to Laura and the baby. Pepper is sitting with them as well. Lila rouses when Tony is preparing to land the plane. She looks up with hooded eyes, still exhausted. She reaches for me and I pick her up, bringing her into my lap.  
“Hi Lila-bear,” I sign, spelling out ‘bear’. Her face lights up into a smile  
“Auntie Nat,” She signs back. Her doe eyes stare at me, “I’ve been getting better. I work really hard.”  
“I know you do. You’re going to join the Avengers, right? Replace your old man?” I tickle her and she giggles. In my peripheral vision, I see Laura’s head whip our way.  
The plane lands at the small Aspen county airport. As we disembark, I see a fleet of SUVs waiting for us. Tony looks at me smugly and I roll my eyes. My heart hurts as I watch Clint help Lila walk towards the cars. The Barton’s get into an SUV, while the rest of us get into another. A third is reserved just for our luggage. It is incredibly ostentatious, though I really should have expected nothing less.  
“So, Nat, what’s this house like? A little cottage? Are you sure you’re going to have enough room for us?” Tony jibes.  
“I’m sure you will be very comfortable. I even bought you a nice air mattress.” I reply, pushing Wanda’s hair over her shoulder. She has it pushed back, away from her face, with a headband.  
We pass through the town center where there are shops and restaurants. Steve remains silent for the ride, and my conversation with Clint forces its way to the forefront of my mind. I catch his eye when we are a few minutes away from the house and give him a small smile. He gives me a large one in return. Finally, we pull up to the house. Wanda gasps as we step out of the car.  
The six-bedroom ski-out chalet towers before us. The three-story home makes our apartment seem like a shoebox.  
“Nat, how long have you owned this?” Clint asks, stepping out of the car.  
“2010?” I shrug. “I’ve only been here once before. It is an investment property, I rent it out. I’m actually giving up my most profitable week.”  
“How many of these _investment_ properties do you own?” he shakes his head.  
“Its rude to ask about someone’s finances, Clint.” I tease. Cooper and Nate begin to play in the snow, diving forward. Laura pulls them out, exasperated, as I unlock the front door. “There are two master suites, I had a crib put in one of them. And there is a bunk room for the kids. All the bedrooms are en-suites.” We step through the entry and I smile at the sight. I had forgotten how much I loved this home.  
The living area is open to the second floor, and the windows reach to the ceiling, giving a spectacular view of the mountain. Leather couches are covered with thick blankets and pillows. I show everyone to their rooms, Pepper and Tony getting the other master.  
“Wanda, you aren’t staying in the kids’ room,” I pull my daughter down the hall. After she lost her leg, I had the house renovated. I put in an elevator and redid the bathroom attached to one of the bedrooms. The safehouses had been renovated as well, though I hope we never have to use them.  
Dinner is takeout, which surprises no one. Our plans for tomorrow are developed and we soon retire to our respective rooms. During my two o’clock check on Wanda, I am pleasantly surprised to find her fast asleep.  
However, at seven o’clock, after I shower from my workout, I hear a knock at my door. When I open it, a frustrated Wanda is waiting.  
“What’s up?” I finish towel drying my hair.  
“What am I supposed to do all day while you are skiing? I don’t want to go grocery shopping or sit here watching TV.”  
“What are you talking about?” I head back into my bedroom and she follows on her crutches.  
“Laura, Lila, and Pepper are staying behind,”  
“Clint is too. Lila had a rough night,” I take out my blow dryer. “But Wanda, you’re coming skiing with us. I order special poles. They are in the garage with the rest of the ski equipment.”  
“My leg won’t go into a ski boot,”  
“You ski one legged, I did a lot of research on this before we came. I have complete faith in you.” Wanda sits down on my bed, looking at her residual limb. “Of course, if you don’t want to go skiing, you and I can spend the day in town, shopping.”  
“No,” she looks up, determination burning in her eyes, “We’ll go skiing,”  
“Okay,” I run a brush through my hair. “Your ski pants and coat are in your closet, along with long underwear. Now I have to dry my hair,” I pull her up from my bed, “We’ll leave in an hour, okay? Spread the word.”  
We drive down to the lodge two hours later, as getting Nate into snow clothes proved to be a greater challenge than Clint anticipated. He is brought to daycare and ski school before Clint turns around and takes the car back to the house to be with Lila.  
“You just keep a car here,”  
“Be sure to give a good review on Airbnb,” I tease Tony.  
Wanda and I go up the magic carpet, and I can tell she is deep in thought. I hope this wasn’t a bad idea. That she won’t get hurt. The only bone that hasn’t been broken skiing is the one in the inner ear. It is one of the most dangerous sports.  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask her.  
“Mom, it was your idea,” Wanda rolls her eyes at me.  
“I know, but,”  
“We are on the rabbit hill,”  
“Bunny slope,” I correct her with a smile, “But if you’re sure,” Before I can finish, she pushes off. “Wanda!” I ski after her quickly, coming to a halt at the bottom, spraying Tony with fresh powder.  
She pulls up her goggles and shoots me a cocky grin, “See? I’m a natural.” Her balance begins to waver, but she puts down the modified poles, catching herself I give her braid a playful tug.  
“Okay, do you want to try the ski lift?” Wanda’s jaw sets and she nods, pulling down the goggles once more.  
Tony and Steve board the lift ahead of us with Cooper wedged between them. Wanda braces herself next to me for the next seat and her lips draw into a thin line as it begins to make its way up the mountain.  
“You okay?” She nods, not taking her eyes off the lift in front of us holding our friends. “I wonder how Sam and Maria are doing with their joint Christmas in D.C.,” I wonder aloud.  
“Who’s hosting?”  
“Sam, but I’m fairly certain Maria is spending most of her time there.”  
“She still feels bad,” Wanda says suddenly, “I don’t want her to. It wasn’t her fault. Will you tell her it wasn’t her fault? I think it would seem like I’m just trying to be nice if it came from me.” Wanda shifts on the seat and then remembers where she is, one of the poles begins to fall, but flies back into her hand before it can hit a skier below. “Also, I think I may have just given away the fact that the Avengers are here.”

We head down to the lodge for lunch a few hours later. Cooper, I can tell, is feeling very grownup to be out without his parents and hanging out with the team. Back at the house, his eyes had followed Lila constantly, looking as though he was ready to help at a moment’s notice. Last night after dinner, he tried to help Lila during a game of Monopoly, which had become her and Wanda’s game since Christmas last year. However, Lila did not want, nor really need, Cooper’s help. It had devolved into an argument between them. Neither could understand the other, with Cooper yelling and Lila signing. Both ended in tears. Now, however, he listens to Tony explain the newest developments to Ironman’s suit.  
“Steve, is this your first-time skiing?” I ask the super soldier as he sips his hot chocolate. Whipped cream forms a mustache on his lip.  
“Yes,” he eyes me warily.  
“Want to make it fun?” I drawl, leaning forward on the table.  
“What did you have in mind?”  
“We hire a helicopter to drop us at the top of the mountain and race to the bottom.” My chest flutters with excitement. “Come on, what’s life without a little risk,”  
“I just broke my leg a few weeks ago,”  
“Exactly, you’re all healed.” He laughs.  
“You’ve got yourself a race, Romanoff.”  
“Good, because the helicopter is picking us up in twenty minutes.” Wanda chokes on her cider, laughing.  
“This is what these two were like until you domesticated her,” Tony replies, “You should have seen the stuff they did before,” He cuts himself off and stammers, something very un-Tony. Steve turns to the billionaire, looking as though he is about to kill him.  
“Before what?” I look around the table.  
“Before SHIELD fell,” Steve grits out, still glaring at Tony. Wanda has gone incredibly still, watching them both. Before the tension can escalate any further, I feel a familiar small body throwing itself on me.  
“Auntie Nat! I skied!” Nate exclaims. A very apologetic daycare worker runs after him, explaining they were up here to decorate cookies. She blushes beet red under the gaze of half the Avengers, taking Nate back to the other toddlers.  
Fifteen minutes later, I am climbing into a helicopter with Steve. He looks down as we rise higher and higher up the mountain side.  
“Where does it land?” he asks, glancing over at me. I laugh. “Come on, Nat! We’re getting too old for this,”  
“I thought you weren’t actually an old man, Rogers.”  
“No, but I’d like to live long enough to become one,” he mutters. The helicopter begins to hover at our drop off location, and the pilot gives us a thumbs up. “You sure about this?”  
“Yeah, it’s gonna be fun.” He pauses, tilting his head, and a smile spreads across his face. “What?”  
“Nothing, just, let’s do this.” He pulls down his goggles. I salute him and jump.  
We soar through the air and land into ungroomed snow. Powder untouched by others swirls around us in a cloud of white. We continue to pass each other in a game of tag, and Steve’s competitive side begins to shine through as he curses when I pass him once more.  
“Language!” I yell out, speeding ahead.  
I beat him to the bottom of the mountain by nearly a minute. Both of us are huffing, out of breath, our skin burned from both wind and sun.  
“Best two out of three?”  
“You’re out of your mind,” he shakes his head fondly, “How about we just race a double black diamond instead?”  
“Coward,” I tease, skiing ahead to where Wanda, Tony, and Cooper await.

* * *

  
It is late afternoon when we get back to the house. Lila is finishing decorating a gingerbread house, which seems to be physical therapy for her coordination. Her brothers join her, and she gets annoyed when Nate tries to grab a candy off, pushing the house away from his tiny hands. Nate signs ‘want’ to her and she takes one of the unused gumdrops, passing it to him. The groceries had been delivered as well, as the fridge is well stocked. Pepper and Laura had been busy, as a Christmas tree that must be twelve feet tall is next to the fireplace. Some presents have already begun to gather at the base.  
That evening, after the Little Barton’s and Wanda had gone to bed, the latter falling asleep in the bunk room after signing and reading a story to the kids, the rest of us gather in the living room. Tony produces a flask of Asgardian mead as an early Christmas present for Cap, explaining he picked it up from New Mexico a few weeks back.  
“How much do you think it would take to get Red drunk off it?” I snort, sipping my peppermint schnapps hot chocolate, courtesy of Laura. “Come on, it’s a holiday.”  
“It’s December twenty-third.”  
“Christmas Eve-Eve,” he states. Steve takes a sip of the flask and then looks to me. I abandon my hot chocolate, handing it over to Clint, who takes it gleefully, having already finished his off. I hold it to my lips and take a gulp. It is smooth as silk going down. Soon, Pepper is the only sober one between us. Steve stands on the stone fireplace, reenacting one of his USO songs, causing Clint to fall off the couch he is laughing so hard.  
“So, imagine that, but in tights,” Steve explains solemnly.  
“And a bunch of showgirls,” Tony adds. Pepper swats him playfully, drinking her virgin cocoa.  
“I still can’t believe Tony Stark is married,” Clint shakes his head, “World famous playboy and bachelor. That’s basically like Natasha tying the knot.”  
“I’ve been married,” I defend, surprising myself. They all stop laughing, staring at me.  
“Nat,” Laura frowns, “You weren’t even twenty-two when we met.”  
“Yeah,” I take another sip from Steve’s flash, regretting saying anything, “Forget I mentioned it. Let’s talk about Tony,” I look over at the inventor.  
“Tash, you’ve never mentioned it before,” Clint sounds heartbroken that I had never brought it up to him.  
“It is something I avoid thinking about.”  
“Did he hurt you?” Steve asks quietly.  
“No. He was kind. A good man. He had a soft spot for fresh baked bread and liked to sing in the shower.” The room dips into silence.  
“What happened?” Tony asks, being the only one with the courage to ask.  
“I’m the Black Widow, remember?” I can’t stop the bitterness from creeping into my voice. I push myself off the couch and stagger a bit before finding my balance and heading out onto the back porch.  
The sky is completely filled with stars, as though they were thrown with the same carelessness as confetti. The stars and the snow remind me of Russia. I think of learning the Nutcracker but being forbidden to celebrate Christmas. Something my parents loved so much, they named me after it.  
I hear the door open behind me and a coat settles on my shoulders. We are silent for a moment.  
“You know the cold doesn’t really bother me.” I look over at Steve and think of his aversion to the cold. Nevertheless, he joins me. He even came to a place filled with ice and snow because I ask him to. It was selfish of me. I could have proposed we do Christmas in Bora Bora or the Bahamas.  
“Nat,”  
“I’m sorry, you don’t have to be out here with me, I just needed to clear my head. That mead is strong,” I try to give a loopy smile, but I have never felt soberer. It had been so long since I had thought about being married, I had tried to block it out. “We don’t have to make a habit of you being out in the cold because of me.”  
“You always make sure the rest of us aren’t alone,” He flicks on the outdoor heater next to the lounge chairs and brushes off the snow before sitting down. I join him reluctantly, sliding my arms through the sleeves of my coat. Steve drapes a blanket over our laps.  
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I never told Clint either. How is he?”  
“He’s sad that you have been holding onto this alone for so long. But he’s not upset with you. You don’t have to talk about it, but whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault, Nat.”  
“Thanks.”  
“You don’t believe me?”  
“Not at all.” I close my eyes for a minute, seeing his face. “It was right after Australia. One day, they told me I was married now, and they handed me a marriage certificate. He was a guard at the school, kinder than the rest. Always gentle. I was secretly thrilled. I thought I was getting out. They had us pose for wedding photos. I wore a beautiful dress,” I think of the intricate lace, “I actually couldn’t wear a white dress again for a long time after that. The first time was at Wanda’s adoption hearing.”  
I think of Wanda, asleep upstairs. I wonder if she knows any of this. If she knows that this man loved me. And what I did to him.  
“We would go out on missions together, and we had an apartment thirty minutes from the Red Room. He fell in love with me. This lasted for nearly five months. Then one day, there is a knock at our door. I open it up and Ivan is standing there. He hands me a gun and tells me to kill my husband. Alexei takes his gun out of his holster and places it on the table. He claims he cannot kill me, and that I would not kill him. Ivan laughed and looked at me, gesturing to get on with it. I shot Alexei between the eyes without hesitation. Ivan told me this was a lesson; the love makes you weak. That I could love, or I could live.”  
“Nat,”  
“They were concerned that I was too soft. I had admitted remorse about killing the college student in Australia. And I avoiding hurting the younger girls during training sessions.”  
“They made you kill, that wasn’t you Natasha,”  
“He praised me after, saying he knew I was a good girl. _His_ good girl. That I knew better than to think something like me should be loved. That I could love.”  
Steve leans over next to me, so my shoulder presses against his. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek as I look up at him.  
“He was wrong, Nat. He had no clue what he was talking about.” 

I wake in the morning to Wanda in my bed, clinging tight to me. She looks as exhausted as I feel. As I shift, she jolts awake.  
“You were having nightmares. I’m sorry, I tried to stay up to stop them. I must have fallen asleep.” She bites her cheek.  
“You are so wonderful, you know that?” I kiss her forehead. “Get some rest, don’t worry about me.”  
“Your nightmares haven’t been so loud in a long time,”  
“I cried out in my sleep?” I pause from getting out of bed.  
“No, sorry. I meant like how thoughts can be loud. Are you okay?” She sits up, rubbing sleep from her eyes.  
“I’m fine, Little Witch. Just had a bit of a rough night.” I pull my blankets back up around her.  
When she comes down around ten, Clint is just finishing the second round of pancakes. As breakfast finishes, we begin to decorate the tree. Wanda hands the star to Lila and smiles slyly, putting the girl on her shoulders. Her hands glow red and she floats up to the top of the tree. Lila squeals with glee at flying and places the star atop the tree. We continue to remain indoors for the rest of the day, as a blizzard builds outside. A Christmas movie marathon starts after lunch. _Rudolph_ is avoided this year, as it upset Wanda so much when we watched it last.  
Sugar cookies that are more frosting than cookie are laid out for Santa Claus with a glass of milk. Cooper rolls his eyes, but then sees Lila’s excitement and pretends to be eager for the myth to come as well. Clint comes down after putting his kids to bed and hands me one of the cookies. Our conversation this morning is still fresh in my mind, and I’m sure his as well.  
“Do you remember at your wedding, when Laura’s brother in law accused me of stabbing him?” I ask, smiling at him. Clint laughs, and Laura groans, overhearing as she walks back in from feeding Nicole.  
“How did he accuse you of stabbing him?” Wanda asks.  
“Because one of my knives went into his hand,” I shrug.  
“That sounds a lot like stabbing,”  
“He should have known better than to reach up my dress and prick himself. Where else was I supposed to store my knives? Best women don’t get a bouquet,”  
“There is a reason we never spend the holidays with my family,” Laura laments. “I really am sorry,”  
“You can stop apologizing, Laur. It’s been so long. Besides, I like to think he learned his lesson.”  
The conversations continue, reminiscing about the past. Old Christmas movies playing the background, but none of us really pay them any mind. Instead, we laugh at the stories of our time living in the tower. And how Tony was so miffed that Clint declined to live there for more than one week a month, not knowing he had a family back home.  
Christmas morning is much different than last year. I chat quietly with Pepper about her plans for a nursery while Clint distracts Nate with the half-eaten carrots on the front yard. Cooper, trying to be a good brother, pretends to be patient while watching _Shrek the Halls_ with Wanda, who had been introduced to the movie series while at the farm after Thanksgiving. Around nine, I hear a crash upstairs. Steve hears it as well, running outside to tell Laura and Clint. Pepper calls after me as I bolt up the stairs, wondering what happened. I find Lila in the bunk room, on the floor, crying.  
“Auntie Nat,” she cries out, but then closes her mouth. Her lip begins to tremble, and the crying has turned to wailing. Her eyes squint shut, and I pick her up, rubbing her back. I hear Clint and Laura run into the room, both breathless and panicking.  
Lila’s cries begin to turn to hiccups, and she pulls away, seeing her parents for the first time. Her eyes widen in horror and she rushes to brush away her tears.  
“What happened?” Clint asks, looking between the two of us. I put Lila down on her lower bunk.  
“Fell trying to get out of bed,” Lila signs, ducking her head.  
“Are you okay?” Laura asks, leaning down in front of Lila. She nods.  
“I didn’t mean for anyone to hear me. I forgot about Auntie Nat and Uncle Steve’s super hearing.”  
“What do you mean?” He looks at his daughter in confusion.  
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m brave.”  
“Lila, we know you are brave, so brave. But we still worry about you,”  
“You have Cooper, Nate, and Nicole to worry about. You don’t have to worry about me.” Laura starts to cry, which causes Lila to panic, looking over to me. “Mom, please don’t cry,” Lila stumbles over the words, unsure as she cannot hear them come out of her mouth. The discomfort from the once chatty child is evident on her face. “I can talk. Would that make things better?” Lila, always trying make everyone else happier, more comfortable.  
“No, if you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to. And it’s okay to not be happy all the time,” Laura explains to her daughter.  
“Like how you get sad sometimes?” She looks to me, nervous. I nod.  
“You can always tell me and Mom how you are feeling, okay? And if you don’t want to tell us, you can call Auntie Nat.” Her face reveals a moment of doubt, but then she agrees.  
“Did Santa come?” she asks after a moment, wiping her nose with her sleeve.  
“He brought so many presents,” Clint smiles. Lila grins, her worries of a few moments ago forgotten. The four of us head down the stairs, with Clint helping Lila go down each step. I spy Cooper talking to Wanda, looking more serious than usual, the holiday special over.  
“Do you have it?” Wanda asks him. He gives her a confident nod and walks over to his parents and sister.  
“Merry Christmas, Lila,” he signs. Lila stares at him with an impossibly large smile, releasing Clint’s hand walks unsteadily towards the Christmas tree with Cooper. They sit at the base of the tree, reading off names and handing back the presents. Wanda steps away from the couch and returns with a mug of coffee for me. The kids tear into their presents, while the rest of us move much slower in our unwrapping. Clint receives another joke kitchen item from Tony, which has become a tradition at this point. This year, they are tea towels that say, _I’m kind of a big dill_ and _Give peas a chance_.  
Surrounded by my found family and laughter, it is easy to forget, at least for a moment, that we have the weight of the world on our shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas in July! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! This is your last chance to catch up on Volition!! Your final warning!! Lol  
> I have so many things planned!! Some are so evil that I can't decide whether or not to include them, I actually cried writing it! Kindred is turning out to be way longer than I anticipated, but I hope you are all okay with that! I'm sooooo excited for this next chapter!! It is almost done, so it will be out sooner rather than later. Get ready for some badass Wanda!!


	23. Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Mild trigger warning for gore**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I have been waiting to post this plot for months! I'm so excited to share that I had to post early. I finished it tonight and couldn't wait until Wednesday!  
> I wanted to make it longer, but my action chapters always tend to be on the shorter side.   
> Thank you all for reading! I always appreciated all of your comments!!   
> Enjoy!!

I sit next to Natasha on the couch in the common room while she goes over reports. _Park and Recreation_ plays on the TV, though I am more interested in her writeups.   
“So, you have to present this to the world security council?”   
“Yes. Steve and I have to provide proof that we are the good guys.”   
“So how big is my folder?” I ask.   
“Smaller than mine, bigger than Tony’s.” She doesn’t look up from the selected paperwork, going over Clint’s folder. His is slimmer than everyone else’s, save for Sam. Sam doesn’t even have a folder, just some paperclipped pages.   
On cue, a frustrated archer walks in with Sam, dropping his duffel bag at the couch. Natasha finally diverts her attention, an amused smile on her face.   
“Laura kick you out?”   
“She said I was hovering. Can you believe that? Me?”  
“I’m surprised it took her this long. When are you allowed back?”   
“Seventy-two hours.” Clint huffs, sitting down next to Nat. We had returned from Aspen just a few days ago, staying until New Years. Nat and Steve will be flying down to Washington D.C. tomorrow.   
“She kicked you out with four kids at home? One of which is a newborn?” I raise my eyebrows.   
“She said I was stressing her out. She won’t be alone. Her mother is visiting.” Nat’s lip curls in disgust at the mention of Laura’s mother.   
“How are they taking the whole thing with Lila?”   
“Surprisingly well. They love the kids, no matter what awful people they are. Her mother started giving us a hard time about not making Lila talk, but dropped it when she saw her.” Clint is drumming his fingers and bouncing his knees. I can see why Laura kicked him out. His nervous energy is contagious. Natasha puts down the folders and pulls Clint off the couch.   
“Come on, we’re going to spar. I am just reviewing the files anyway. I already have them memorized.” He smiles at his best friend gratefully.   
“Can you give Laura a call tonight?”  
“Of course,” They turn to invite me, though this seems to be a time where they want to be alone.   
“I have some schoolwork to do. AP chem reports aren’t going to write themselves. And my teacher knows where I live.”   
We had arrived at the compound this morning after spending two nights back at the apartment. Nat and Steve are heading out to D.C. after dinner tonight, while I stay at Pepper and Tony’s cabin on the other side of the lake. They’ll be home tomorrow morning but being away from Nat still causes a rush of anxiety that is hard to taper down.   
I am neglecting my chemistry work and scrolling through Instagram when the team group message pings. A message from Bruce. I don’t think he has ever initiated a conversation. We all gather in the conference room, per his instructions. Clint and Nat are dripping with sweat, both looking more relaxed than they were an hour ago, while Tony, Rhodey, and Sam appear, covered in grease. They must have been in the garage. Finally, Steve jogs in, returning from a run.  
“I found the source,” Bruce announces, “I found where they were manufacturing the paralytic that incapacitated Cap,” He gestures to the screen, and a DNA sequence pops up, along with coordinates and some kind of tracing.   
“How soon do you think we should move on this?” Steve asks, looking at the doctor.   
“As soon as possible,” He fidgets with his tablet.   
“We can’t go, we have to be in D.C. in a few hours,” he looks to Nat.   
“Bruce, can you run ops from the quinjet?” Natasha asks. She receives a nod. “Tony can run point on the attack and getting into the lab where they are making the drug.”   
“Are you all available?” Steve asks, looking around at the team. No one says otherwise, “Good. We can expect this isn’t the only weapon in their arsenal. Bruce, type up a mission briefing for the team. Wheels up in ninety.”

“Do you have your EpiPen?” Nat begins to go through my duffel bag, “And a spare? What about a change of clothes? Clint did you pack tea?” Natasha hurries around the kitchen, while the rest of we stand and watch.   
“Nat, everything is going to be fine. It is a two-day mission, max. If we’re lucky, we’ll be home in time for lunch tomorrow.”  
“Don’t rush, you’ll only make mistakes.”  
“Pretty sure the only one _Russian_ around here is you,” Clint holds up his hand to me for a high five. I laugh at the sight.   
“You should know, he made dad jokes before he was a dad,” Natasha runs her fingers through her hair. “Maybe I should come, Tony could take my place at the meeting,”   
“Mom, I will be fine.”  
“What if,”  
“Clint will be there. He’s my partner on the mission.”  
“If I can be your partner for so many years, I’m sure Wanda will be a walk in the park.” She snorts.   
“Hey!” I glower. She pulls me into a tight hug and Clint heads out to give us a moment alone.   
“Just remember to listen to the senior members of the team, okay? They are looking out for you and have more experience. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, be cognizant of your surroundings,”  
“And don’t die.”  
“Especially don’t die.” She pulls away, “And for God’s sake, wear your hair back.” Natasha reaches into the fridge and pulls out a peanut butter sandwich, “In case you get hungry on the flight.”   
“Have fun on your date,” I tease.   
“We are meeting with world leaders to advocate why we should be kept off the list of terrorist organizations for another five years. Hardly a date, love. And it’s not as if Steve would ever like me like that.” I roll my eyes, but she misses it as she has begun to do my hair herself. She walks me out to the landing pad where the quinjet is waiting. Steve is going over last minute schematics with Tony and Sam, but looks up to us, smiling briefly before returning his attention to the tablet. Natasha gives me one final hug before I board. She waves goodbye, running her index finger across the invisible scar on her neck. I watch her until the gangplank closes.

* * *

  
Inside the quinjet, everyone has taken to their tasks. Tony is prepping for takeoff, Bruce is queuing up the computers, and Clint is taking inventory of the weapons.   
I go over the mission report that Bruce typed up. It is quite different than Natasha’s normally meticulous writings. There are bits of ramblings, and it is slightly unorganized.   
“You ready for your first mission without Nat?” Sam asks, sitting down next to me.   
“Of course,” I put on a false bravado, scoffing, “I’m an adult.”   
“I bet she’s pissed about missing this one,” Clint adds, joining us, “This is right up her alley.”   
“It is probably best her and Steve aren’t here,” Bruce pushes his glasses at the bridge of his nose.   
“Feeling a little jealous, Brucey?” Tony teases, emerging from the cockpit. Bruce throws him an annoyed look.   
“No. Because these people, that we have every reason to believe are an offshoot of Hydra, have developed a drug specifically for super soldiers. Based on my studies, it will have no effect on us if we were to be exposed.”   
Rhodes emerges from the back of the jet, holding rolls of paper. He places them on the center console, and we begin to look over the floor plans for the facility.  
“These are probably outdated,” Tony frowns.   
“It’s the best we’ve got. Area has been abandoned since the eighties.”   
“Why?” I ask, flipping onto the next page.   
“Covered up bomb testing during the Cold War.” Rhodes explains.   
“If this is an all hands on deck mission, why isn’t Peter here?” I look to Tony.   
“The kid and I had a disagreement. I’m not letting him operate outside of New York. Not ready to get rid of his training wheels yet.”  
“I was younger than him when I went on missions,” I point out.   
“That’s different. You wouldn’t have listened to us anyway. And his suit will shut off if he goes more than twenty mile outside the city in any direction.”

We land in a valley a few hours south of the Italian-Austrian border. The closest village is ten miles away, leaving us almost entirely isolate. It is unseasonably warm for the area, nearing fifty degrees. This is a stark contrast to Upstate New York, where is was a chilly twenty. The mountainous region is practically balmy. It is nearing sunrise as we prep, Tony running point.   
Sam flies Red Wing out and we look at the camera footage. An old, abandoned castle sits at the base of one of the mountains. It reminds me too much of my prison in Sokovia.  
“You good, kid?” Tony looks over at me. I nod resolutely.   
“Let’s kill these Nazi bastards,”   
“This is a data recon mission,” Rhodes reminds me.   
“I’m with Wanda,” Clint cracks his knuckles, “And if this was just data, you wouldn’t have brought the whole team.”   
“It was just in case,” Tony argues, clearly lying. “You don’t kill them if they surrender, understood?” He looks pointedly at me. “Don’t let your temper get the best of you your first time off the leash.”   
“You did not just compare me to a dog,” I grind my teeth.   
“Tony,” Bruce looks at his friend.  
“That’s not how I meant it. Just, be smart out there.” Sam steps back onto the quinjet with Red Wing in hand. “Alright guys, let’s do this.”  
“That is your motivational speech?” he scoffs, setting down the drone, “Even Nat’s ‘Don’t die or I’ll kill you’ is better than that.”   
“Fine. Raid the lab, shut down operations, and don’t die. Better Wilson?” Sam nudges me, smiling. I walk over to my duffel bag, changing into my uniform.   
My favorite Christmas present are the new pants that Nat designed. The black Kevlar-like leggings have three slits on either side. The slits are actually sheathing, hiding black matte throwing knives, similar to the ones I had been training with. I had been practicing with them back at the apartment, and they now slide out with just a flick of my fingers. The boots come on with ease, and I am grateful for their modification. When I look down, it is impossible to tell that my leg is missing.   
I slide on my jacket, pushing my thumbs through the holes, and step out of the quinjet. Clint places a hand on my shoulder.   
“Wanda,”  
“I won’t lose control. Don’t destroy the entire facility, I know. Historic value, evidence, local landmarks.”   
“Be safe.” He hands me a spare hair elastic, likely a parting gift from Nat. I smile and slide it onto my wrist.  
“Okay everyone, go to your planned locations. We want to be in and out in three hours max.” He looks to Bruce who has set up an outdoor operation with computers and radios. We spent twelve hours monitoring the area, watching their guard shifts and defenses.   
Sam serves as our eyes in the sky while Tony and Rhodes take the stealth entrance from the back of the castle. Clint and I are to storm the front.   
We round the corner, exiting our hiding place, and step into the open. The drone video did not do the castle justice. It is grand, with steep steps leading up to the front doors. Clint winks at me and begins to yell.   
“We are giving you the opportunity to surend-” He is cut off by a rain of bullets that I deflect with a force field.   
“I don’t think they are interested,” I fly up the castle steps, ripping ancient doors off their hinges. Clint runs up behind me, huffing,   
“Historical preservationists must hate you,” He fires an arrow at an approaching soldier.   
The fight begins to surround us. The air smells of smoke and urine as bodies drop around us. Beneath our feet, the stone floors have become slick with blood. Comrades turn their guns on each other as my powers enter their mind. I feel a bullet whir past my head and fly a knife in that direction, the man’s thoughts giving away his location. It embeds itself in his throat before soaring back into my hand, dripping with the familiar dark liquid. I wipe the weapon on my pants and sheathe it once more.   
“Boomerang knife, neat trick!” Clint calls out, somersaulting as he fires two arrows, both hitting their marks.   
My feet are swept out from underneath me, and I hit the ground, hard. With a groan, I pull myself back up, throwing a punch in return. I make contact with his jaw, my hand glowing red. My stomach clenches as I realize I hit him too hard, and the bone disconnects from his face, leaving a gaping wound as his jaw literally hits the floor. A strangled scream escapes him as blood pours from what remains of his face. I kill him quickly and mercifully, guilt flooding my veins. Without another moment of hesitation, I snap the necks of the last remaining Hydra agents, approaching from behind. All six meet the floor with a thud, lifeless.  
“We’ve secured the north side of the building. Falcon, how we looking overhead?” Clint asks, scanning the corridor.   
“I took care of the east side, west was abandoned. Ironman and War Machine, how’s the south side?”   
“Dreamy, Bird brain. Seems like Hawkeye and Scarlet Witch did all the heavy lifting. Lab is almost secure.” I begin to wander around the castle and spy a door almost completely hidden behind a pile of crates. Something doesn’t seem right. I open the door and fly over, stumbling in my landing.   
“Wanda, where are you going?” Clint calls, abandoning protocol, using my real name. The lilt in his voice gives away his concern.   
“What’s Little Red doing?” Tony asks.   
“Wanda,” the archer calls from the other side of the wall.  
“I want to see what’s so important that they blocked this off,” I head farther down the dank hall.   
“Not our objective, we will loop back around, explore after we know the mission has been completed.” I ignore him and power up my hands as a source of light as I head down the winding windowless hallway. There is an audible crash behind me, and on the coms, as Clint tries to dismantle the barrier.   
“Wanda, come back around. We’ll come with you,” Sam offers his input for the first time.  
“If this place was anything like mine, they’ll have prisoners. People to experiment on.”   
“This is not Sokovia, Wanda. Strucker is dead, that whole branch of Hydra is gone. No one is going to hurt you.”   
“Scarlet Witch, turn back around and wait for backup. That is an order.” I flagrantly disobey Tony.   
“I’m over the barrier. I’ll have her back in five. Wanda you are in so much trouble. Nat is going to kill,” As I head down a stone staircase, damp and growing with moss, my coms cut out. The walls are curved, and the center of the stairs dip from thousands of footsteps over the course of hundreds of years. Under the red glow of my powers, I can just make out faded paintings of grape vines on the walls. These dungeons were repurposed to be a wine cellar at one time, though I have a feeling that is no longer its purpose.   
Natasha has spoken many times about instincts, about gut feelings, and that is what I am experiencing now. A small part of me worries that I am acting irrationally, that I will be walking into something dangerous, alone and without backup. Anyone could be waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. Someone dangerous enough that Hydra locked them up. Or they could be someone like me, like Pietro. A child being tortured and experimented on.   
The time for pondering my fate has run out as I reach the end of the winding staircase. The cellar is surprisingly well lit. A broken door proves to be a culprit, the wood splintered at the hinges and never replaced. A permanent chill fills the space, and as I look at the empty cells. There are torn mattresses on the ground, in another there is just a pile of rags. None of the rooms hold any people. My instincts were wrong. I reach the end of the corridor and look into the last cell.   
There is a girl sitting on a cot in the corner, her legs drawn to her chest, head resting on her knees. Her blonde hair is tangled, hanging in a limp braid off to the side.   
“Hello?” I ask. Her head whips up. She has a button nose and a youthful appearance, despite the filth and grime of her surroundings. I step closer to the cell, and her large blue eyes take me in coldly, assessing me, determining whether or not I am a threat. For a moment, my heart skips, and I feel like prey. My eyes flash red involuntarily, and the girl’s expression shifts.   
“Jesus Christ, Wanda!” I turn away from her as I see Clint running down the hall. “What the hell? What if this place was rigged to blow?” He huffs, slowing down to catch his breath.   
“They were keeping someone prisoner,” I go to unlock the door. The girl jumps up from her bed, backing into the corner. However, she does not look scared, instead, she looks rabid and ready to attack, like a cornered animal, “I think they hurt her, like they hurt me,” I look back to Clint.  
“I’ll let the team know, we can send everyone down, get her help. She won’t be alone,” he offers softly, understanding. “We’ll find her family, get her home. Okay?”  
I bob my head up and down, pulling my sleeves further over my hands.   
Clint walks over, appearing as though he is about to hug me, and then his eyes drift to the girl in the cell. His entire body locks up, his skin becoming deathly pale, as if he has seen a ghost. He stares at the girl, who meets his eyes with something akin to recognition.   
“Yelena?”   



	24. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning for minor unintentional self harm**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you are having a great week! Sorry for the delay, my life is so crazy busy right now that I don't have that much time to write. All of your comments mean so much to me, seriously! Everyone I get brings a smile to my face and has encouraged me to keep writing not just on here, but on my original work as well. Thank you for reading along, some of your for more than seven months now!  
> I love this chapter and hope you all do too!

“Nat, you okay?” Steve appears beside me as we watch the quinjet disappear into the sky.   
“Fine,”  
“She’s going to do great. Don’t worry.”  
“I should call Tony or Bruce, pair her with Clint. She’ll feel more comfortable,”  
“Already took care of it.” I think of him talking to them before the team boarded. My chest warms with affection.  
“Thank you,” I smile up at him and bump his shoulder before beginning to walk back towards the main building. “When do we leave?”  
“Happy and the plane with be arriving in an hour.”  
“Oh, he must be thrilled that he is flying us to D.C.” I begin to gather up the files, sliding them into the binder. “Do you think the mission will go okay? They’ll still call us if something happens, right? Do you think we should go and postpone the meeting?”  
“They are going to be fine. Nothing is going to happen, but if it does, I know you will be their first call.” I notice I have been running my finger across my neck. Quickly, I lower my hand.  
“I should grab my bag.”  
“Meet you on the runway in thirty?” he asks. I nod and head into my room. My duffel is already packed, and the garment bag hanging on the door holds my suit. For once, not my catsuit, but a business suit from Hugo Boss.  
Steve beats me to the runway, standing ahead of me in his wool lined leather bomber. As I get closer, he turns to smile at me.  
Tony’s jet is waiting, and we greet Happy, who as predicted, is not thrilled with the arrangement.  
“I’m head of security now, not just a driver.”  
“I know, that’s why you’re piloting.” I tease, putting my luggage and garment bag in the closet. “We missed you at Christmas. I heard you spent it in Queens,” He grunts and goes into the cockpit, closing the door behind him. I shoot Steve a smile and we take seats across from each other.  
We are twenty minutes into our thirty-minute flight, when we hit an air pocket. The plane shakes, and I feel it begin to descend, but it is righted in seconds. Happy utters an apology over the speakers and I look over at Steve.  
His fingers are dug into the arms of the seat so tightly, that the cream-colored leather has ripped. He has begun to shiver, teeth chattering. It has been ages since I last saw him like this, the last time being right after the Winter Soldier.  
“Steve, it’s okay. We’re okay. We are on our way to D.C. The plane just hit some turbulence.” His jaw tightens, stopping the chattering. I pry his hands off the seat and hold them in mine, rubbing my thumbs in rhythmic circles. “Steve, can you talk to me? Tell me where we are,” He blinks, staring at me.  
“Nat,”  
“Hi Soldier,”  
“You can’t be here,” He pulls me up out of my seat and towards the emergency exit, beginning to mumble about a parachute, “You’re not supposed to be here,”  
“We’re going to D.C., remember? Can you tell me why we’re going?” I guide him back to our seats. He closes his eyes. I take my hands from his and pull a blanket around his shoulders.  
“Meeting with security council,” he says finally, opening his eyes.  
“Year?”  
“2018,”  
“You’re okay,” He notices the blanket over his shoulders, the tips of his ears turn red. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He doesn’t answer me and seems as though he is trying to make himself smaller, invisible. “Would you like to go over talking points for the meeting? Or we could discuss battle tactics for team training sessions. I was thinking in February, we could call everyone in for a week of intensive training,”  
“Like boot camp?” his eyes flick up.  
“Yes, we could even make everyone sleep on the floor in the gym, or out in tents.”  
“Good luck getting Tony to agree to that,” he laughs a little.  
“I think Tony could use a little roughing it. He refers to the cabin he and Pepper share as camping. He sleeps on a twelve-thousand-dollar mattress and calls it roughing it because his house happens to be in the woods.”  
The plane is touching down at Reagan minutes later, and when Happy steps out of the cockpit, Steve puts on his winning Captain America smile.  
“You know, if I had been allowed to pilot, we would have been here in fifteen,” I go to grab my duffel, but Steve takes it, leaving me with just my garment bag. He ignores my glare.  
“Thank you Happy, we will see you tomorrow.”  
As we disembark, I pretend to take a playful swing at him. He overcorrects, stumbling back, mild fear evident on his face.  
“Sorry about her,” Steve takes my arm, pulling me off the plane, “You are awful, you know that?” He jests.  
“I was just teasing him; he knows I would never hurt him.” I zip up my leather jacket, “It’s cold, lets get inside and order a rental car.”  
We get the keys from a starstruck attendant and head out to the lot. Steve turns to me, tossing over the keys. I light up with a smile.  
“You’re letting me drive?”  
“You told me not to make a habit of chauffeuring you around,” I rev the engine to the sports car, thrilled at the selection he made while I was picking up coffee.  
Our hotel is just ten minutes from the international trade center where we will be having our meeting.  
“How long do we have?”  
“Two hours.”  
“Making this meeting so early is criminal.”  
“It’s eleven o’clock, and we could have arrived last night,” he points out.  
“And spend one more hour than necessary here?” I yell after him as he enters into in adjoining room.  
The Ronald Reagan International Trade Center is bustling as we walk in. No one pays us any mind. In suits of this sort, we are hardly recognizable.  
But security is keeping an eye out for us. They spot us instantly and approach in all black tactical gear. Security had been amped up significantly since SHIELD fell. One of the guards eyes my Birkin bag suspiciously.  
“I’ll show you mine of you show me yours,” I flash a flirty smile. Steve chokes, from horror or suppressed laughter, I do not know.  
They bring us to an office suite labelled the International Gateway, where six more men stand guard. Upon opening the door however, I see we are blessedly alone, save for the council members that await. The six politicians rise at our arrival. I find myself missing Hawley. However, a young British gentleman greets me warmly.  
“Tate Hawley, I believe my mother once lied and said we went to Oxford together,” He shakes my hand and introduces himself to Steve. The others provide introductions as well, and we are led to our seats. Steve takes a side seat, leaving me with the other head of the table, him at my right. Our nameplates clearly dictate that other seating arrangements had been planned.  
“Got to keep them on their toes,” he whispers, quiet enough that only I, a fellow enhanced individual, could hear. My apprehension, however, grows as the other head of the table remains vacant.  
A few minutes later, the door opens and Secretary Ross walks in. The American on the Council, a former higher up in the CIA, shoots me and Steve an apologetic look.  
“Secretary Ross requested he sit in on the meeting in the president’s absence.”  
“Pleasure to see you, Mr. Secretary.”  
“Yes, Thaddeus. Always a pleasure,” I glare at him, thinking of the sixteen weapons I have on my person right now. How easy it would be to just kill him, right now. A steel toed dress shoe kicks me in the shin, while Steve’s face maintains a passive pleasantness.  
“Let’s get started,” Tate clears his throat. We begin to work through the list of Avengers. Rhodes, then Sam, followed by Clint. Thor comes next, then Steve, Bruce, and Tony. We get to Wanda. There is an uncomfortable shift in the air. I have both a physical file and the digital version in front of me. Her photo comes up on the PowerPoint. It is her school photo from this year, I have it hanging in the dining room. I didn’t send it in, but Steve must have. I gave everyone a picture. She looks like a normal teenager, not a threat to the world. He picked a good one.  
“Wanda Maximoff is now an adult,” Ross begins, “And I think it is time we reconsider some aspects of her life here in the United States,”  
“Please, elaborate,” Julien Durand, the representative from France, frowns. I can feel my heart beating in my ears. “She has been given full citizenship in your country, has she not? She was also adopted by an American citizen,” He looks briefly to me, before looking back at Ross. This is not his first comment of the day. We had spent a long hour discussing Bruce.  
“As an adult, she may present a different risk in the future, and I believe that is something we have to consider. I would like to know that there is a way to keep her powers in check.”  
“She is not a weapon,” I spit. “Her powers are a part of her, not something to be restrained. I advise you choose your next words carefully, Secretary.”  
“I am simply suggesting that the Avengers share the means they have discovered for controlling the Scarlet Witch. You can’t tell me you haven’t found a way, not after what she did to the two of you in South Africa,” _Again_. _You’ll break them. You will not fail. You are made of marble_. I dig my nails into my palms. “Surely, Captain, you have something you can share.” Any prescription painkiller. Electricity. Hallucinogens. Lightning storms. Shellfish.  
“We do not harm our own team members, sir. Let alone do research on how to hurt a child.”  
“She is no longer a child, Captain.”  
“This is no longer a discussion. Wanda is a member of our team, my daughter, and not a threat to the safety of this world. She has proved repeatedly, all carefully document in the files I have given you, that she is willing to put life and _limb_ on the line to protect it.”  
“If you believe, Miss Romanoff, that we should move onto the final file of the day, so be it.” Secretary Ross acquiesces with a sharp smile. My photo comes up. It is my old SHIELD ID card picture, though it could have been taken yesterday by the looks of it, and I can see by the look on Steve’s face, this is not the one he submitted. “When was this photo taken?”  
“March 2012,” The scars had finally healed, and they updated my photo for the first time since I had arrived. I went to Russia a few days later, and then got the call about Clint. There is no point in lying. Ross knows when it was taken.  
“It is now 2018, correct?” My jaw twitches, “Yet, you haven’t aged a day.”  
“Dermatologists must hate me,” I reply coldly.  
“You have also survived quite a few events that seem impossible. Unless, of course, you have been hiding the true extent of your enhancements.” I feel sick. “You are not registered on the list of enhanced individuals, Widow. You are aware that is an illegal offence?”  
“Ross,” Steve warns.  
“You have been lying to us about the Widow Program. They were able to recreate Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. You are a direct result in that program which can be seen in a careful analysis of your running speed, healing, and aging. You burnt everything back on your mission with SHIELD in taking down the Red Room so the world would never find out what you are.”  
“It is a failed serum. I burned everything so the world could never recreate the Widow Program. It was a monstrosity and should be marked as such. I am the only surviving link. And when I die, it will be erased from the world.” The glint in his eyes tell me he already knew that the serum was a failure.  
“Two months ago, in Siberia, we discovered a group of super soldiers in cryostasis. They were mad, crazy and lethal.” I feel Steve stiffen beside me, and I can feel him thinking about Bucky. “We had to kill them, unable to restrain them. Originally, they were five regular Russian soldiers,” I feel Steve relax, “But at this point, they were half human, really. Monsters. Unfortunately, there was an incident in which the bodies were destroyed.” Fury. It had to be Fury. “And we were unable to get a single blood sample. We did, however, find logs that, though did not have formulas for the serum, extensively referenced the Widow Program.” I meet the Secretary’s eyes, though already planning my escape. I could jump out the window and land below, perhaps a broken arm. Call Fury on a burner. Get Wanda in Austria. Go to my safehouses. But I can’t do that to her.  
I feel a foot brush against mine. Steve is looking at me, I had started to spiral. Underneath the table, my nails had begun to tear my flesh. I grip the arms of the chair.  
“This is why you can kill without guilt. You are like them. Why you can tear through hundred of men without a blink. You are a ruthless assassin devoid of emotion. How did you get so good at pretending to be one of us? How are you able to pretend to be human? To pretend to be more than this monster they made? You are no more than half a person, and even then, that seems a little generous.” The room falls into a stunned silence.  
“If she is a monster, half a person, what does that make you?” Steve has risen from his seat, his eyes dark. “She is more human than you could ever be,”  
“Please, Captain Rogers. I know what happened in late 2013,” Before I can react, or wonder what happened in 2013, Steve has shoved the conference table across the room, pinning Ross by the end of it, against the wall. The secretary’s eyes bulge in shock, and I wonder for a moment is Steve has split him in two, but then he gasps for air.  
“You need to watch yourself, Thaddeus. Remember who, what, I am. Next time, you won’t be the only monster in this room.”  
Steve comes over to my chair, gently pulling me up, a stark contrast to the violent rage he had a moment before.  
“Thank you all for your time, we look forward to hearing your decision.” I am in a daze as Steve guides me out of the office and cannot focus on anything. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.  
I am vaguely aware of us climbing into a town car and arriving at our hotel. It is finally going to happen. They are going to kill me or turn me back into a science experiment. More tests. Poking and prodding. Blood on fire. Electricity charging through my brain.  
“Nat, can you look at me? Come on, its okay. Everything is okay,”  
“They are going to,”  
“No. I spoke to Ellis. If it gets leaked to the media, Ross and the rest of the security council is facing possible treason against their respective governments. They signed mountains of paperwork to enter the room. Any UN country would have the right to extradite them for prosecution. No one is going to know. You’re safe. Nothing is going to happen.”  
“He’s right.” Half a person. Barely. That’s generous. Operating without guilt. Without a shred of humanity.  
“No, he is not. Ross was trying to upset us. He hit where it hurts. But he was full of it. Just spouting off lies. He doesn’t know you, Tash. Not like how I do. Or Clint. Lila. Wanda.”  
“Steve, you don’t understand,”  
“What don’t I understand, Tash? Is it the serum? Are you saying I’m less human as well?”  
“No! Of course not. We have different serums,” I sit down on the bed, “And even if we didn’t, well you’re Steve Rogers.”  
“I really don’t know what you mean, Nat. Will you please explain it to me?” He is sure to make it a question, he isn’t demanding answers. He is offering me the opportunity to say no. The mattress shifts with his weight as he sits down beside me. At least this way, I don’t have to look him in the eye.  
“They did things to me, making me less. You know I don’t have free will, not really. I don’t think I feel like everyone else. They would play with my brain, sticking their fingers in and playing until I couldn’t even remember my own name. Yelena would whisper to me in the dark of our room, reminding me of who I was, until it started to come back. Sometimes, they’d have me sit at their feet, like a dog. Even stroking me, petting me. I was theirs, I belonged to people. I killed my owners, and,” I feel y breaths quicken. The bullet entering Madame B’s brain. Her or Clint. It was her or Clint. Because they took away the third option. I belonged to her, and I killed her.  
“Stop.” He places a hand on mine, “They were not your _owners_ , Natasha. They were your captors, trainers, and torturers, but they did not own you. They never owned you.”  
“You don’t,”  
“No, I do. I know. No one has ever owned you a day in your life. You are your own person.” He unzips my overnight bag and pulls out sweatpants and a t-shirt, one of his, handing it to me.  
I clumsily change out of my suit and into the loungewear, washing off the small cuts on my arms. Steve had caught me before I shredded them, before I slipped too far. As I make my way out of the bathroom, I spy Steve sitting on the bed. He holds up two bottles of wine.  
“Room service will be here soon. I didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for, so I ordered everything on the menu.”  
“What about our dinner reservation?”  
“Cancelled,” He pulls the cork out of one of the bottles and pours it into the coffee mugs provided. “We can stay in and watch movies. I never wanted to go to that fancy restaurant anyhow.” He doesn’t give me his Captain America smile, but his Steve smile. The one that isn’t as bright, that has experienced pain and struggle.  
Three hours later, the remnants of our picnic have been brought out into the hall, and we have started our second movie and fourth bottle of wine. We sit close, our sides pressed against each other, watching Julia Roberts rediscover herself. They are celebrating Thanksgiving when Steve stands up, offering me his hand. Neil Young’s _Heart of Gold_ fills the small hotel room. I rest my head on his chest and we dance slowly to the music, swaying quietly. I feel my tears begin to stain his shirt. He doesn’t comment, only holding me tighter.  
“I’ll never be enough,” I breathe into him, a lump forming in my throat.  
“You are, Natasha. For me, you have always been enough,”  
We continue dancing long after the song has ended.

* * *

In the morning, we arrive at the airport to find Happy waiting with the jet. My phone has been suspiciously quiet. There haven’t been any calls or texts from Wanda since they were preparing to infiltrate the base.  
“Any news?”  
“I haven’t heard anything, but the GPS shows them en route to the compound. We should beat them by about a half hour.” He sits down in his seat, and I in mine across from him. “Did you check your email this morning,”  
“Another five years of staying off the international terrorist list,” I nod, propping my feet up. He makes no comment about my shoes being on the leather upholstery. His chair had been fixed; the rips gone.  
The compound is eerily silent when we arrive, and I my anxiety begins to build up at the lack of communication from the team.  
“No news is good news, Nat,” Steve assures me, cooking another piece of French toast. There is currently enough to feed an army, though I imagine the team will be thankful upon their arrival. Steve turned on the Beatles while we ate, and the music continues to filter in. I have my back to the rest of the compound as I pour myself and Steve each another cup of coffee, humming quietly to the music.  
I turn around and drop my mug, the porcelain shattering across the tile floor, the hot coffee splashing onto my bare feet.  
“Tasha,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, angst, cliffhanger! It is like my trifecta lol  
> I put a lot of heart into this one, and I hope you all enjoyed it!  
> As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!! The next chapter of Volition will be out this week and I hope to have the next chapter of Kindred out by this weekend!  
> Thank you all for reading!! :)


	25. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry for the delay. I was having a some serious writer's block for this chapter. I was so torn between POVs and reactions and felt like my mind was going a million different ways! But nevertheless, here we are! This is a dialog heavy chapter, sorry in advance if that is not your cup of tea!  
> Thank you all for reading along!! As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!
> 
> *Also, I mistakenly put Neil Diamond instead of Neil Young in the last chapter (That’s what I get for writing at 1 am), the musical part of me was cringing so hard that I had to address it. It has since been fixed!

I recover from the shock and quickly pull my gun from its holster. The woman, who looks so much like my sister, puts her hands up. She looks completely calm, despite the fact that two of the most dangerous people in the world are currently poised to attack. But it isn’t her. It can’t be here.  
Clint and Wanda come skidding into the room, out of breath and in a panic. Both are still in their uniforms, covered with a mix of dirt and blood.  
“Nat, put down the gun,” he suggests gently. I give a slight shake of my head, not taking my eyes off the imposter.  
“That isn’t, it can’t be, you saw, you were,” My sentence is disjointed and broken, but he seems to understand what I am trying to say.  
“I know, Tash. I saw, but this is her. I promise. I wouldn’t have brought her here if it weren’t.”  
“Is me, Tasha,” Yelena promises. My hands are shaking.  
“Mom,” My eyes flit to Wanda, while Yelena’s, no _not_ Yelena’s, head whips around, staring at my daughter. “It’s her. I looked. I saw her giving you a pair of ballet slippers and sitting with Cooper as a baby.” I take a deep breath, sucking in my cheeks. No, it can’t be real. No. She can’t be here. That would mean those men had taken her, that she was taken prisoner. Turned into a weapon or an experiment. And that can’t have happened. I could not let that happen.   
Wanda is now standing in front of me, the porcelain crunching under her boots, and takes the gun from my hands, putting in back in the holster. I see her momentarily look at the broken mug, and a slight look of relief passes her face, one that I cannot understand.  
“Lena?” I ask tentatively.  
“Hi Tasha,” She grins, showing off her straight, white teeth. This bright smile is a sharp contrast to the rest of her, that seems to be covered in a thick layer of grime, her hair tangled, and clothes torn.  
“How are you here?”  
“I don’t know,” Her face clouds momentarily in confusion, “I think it has been long time, yes? It feels like long time,”  
“Ten years,” I affirm, my voice cracking, “I’m so sorry, Yelena.”  
“Not your fault, whatever happened. I know it wasn’t your fault. No guilt allowed,” She scolds. I step carefully over the broken ceramic and inspect her. “Is me,” she promises, offering her hand. I turn it over in mine, unbelieving, running my finger along the lines of her palm.  
“You weren’t supposed to be back. The meetings were supposed to carry through this morning,” Clint tries to excuse. It explains the radio silence, why I hadn’t heard from anyone. But the meeting. Ross. Yelena is alive. If he finds out there is another Widow, I was supposed to be the last. He could hurt her; I just got her back. I can’t lose her.  
“If bad, I go.”  
“No!” I look up, panic blooming.  
“I stay?” She looks over at Clint.  
“This can’t be real, this isn’t real,” Yelena takes both of my hands and places them on her face.  
“You see? Me. Real.” I nod my head and she drops my hands. “You good? Or you pull gun on me again?”  
“I’m good.” Yelena’s stance relaxes. Wanda hovers beside us, and I can feel her anxiety rolling off in waves. “Lena, I’d like you to meet Wanda, my daughter.”  
“We met on jet, she did not mention your relationship to her. All she give is name, and that they were taking me to you.” Wanda ducks her head bashfully, my shy girl, with an utterly explosive temper. “How do you have a daughter?”  
“I’m adopted,” Wanda adds quietly.  
“Ah,” Yelena nods, “Understood. I adopted sister. Is what Tasha does.”  
“How?” I ask the group. How did they find my dead sister? How is she alive?  
“Bruce and I put up blocks on the jet,” she explains. They can’t tell me more right now, not in front of Yelena.  
“I can finish breakfast while you all cleanup,” Steve offers. I wonder where the rest of the team is, and if Clint told them not to come in, unsure if I would implode.  
“You can shower in my bathroom,” I tell Yelena, “And I can give you some fresh clothes.”  
I wait on my bed and she emerges from the en-suite fifteen minutes later in borrowed clothes, presenting a hairbrush and elastic. She sits cross legged on the bed in front of me and I begin to brush through her hair. Like we are little girls in the Red Room again, getting ready for class. I finish off the French braid, looping an elastic around the end. She turns around to face me.  
“I missed you.”  
“I know I miss you too.” She leans forward, “You don’t look good, too skinny,” She pinches my arm.  
“Stop that, you don’t look too hot yourself,” A lie. She has dark circles under her eyes, the only sign that anything is amiss. Other than that, she looks healthy.  
“I was held prisoner for ten years, what is your excuse?” I feel my chest flush, “Sorry, I don’t know what your life is like,” Her apology is sincere, perhaps I really do look that bad. “You still secret agent? This your weird house? Who are all those people? Clint didn’t explain, too busy freaking out that I came back from dead.”  
“They are my team,”  
“You need to give me more than that,” She rolls her eyes.  
“I’m sure breakfast is ready, if you want to meet them.”  
“You nervous, Tasha? Scared I will kill them?”  
“I’m scared this isn’t real. This is too good to be true.”  
“Trust me, is real. You can’t make me up.” She ends up bringing me out into the common area, rather than the other way around. “I want to meet your family, Natasha,” she insists. I had called them my team, but she recognized them for what they are.  
There is a mountain of French toast on the dining table. Everyone has shifted their usual spots to accommodate Yelena, probably assuming she is as touchy around new people as I am. Nevertheless, I sit down beside Wanda, while Yelena settles between Clint and I.  
“Who are all you people?” Yelena inquires, “And what is this place?”   
“Well, _I_ am,” Clint begins.  
“I know you, Stupid American,” Yelena swats him playfully, and inspects the crowd of superheroes.  
“You know Nat, for her being your sister, you guys are nothing alike.”  
“Oh, Tasha is very serious. Make sure everyone safe. Protect. She is secretly big softy,”  
“Told you,” Wanda mutters to Sam, who rolls his eyes at her.  
“This is my team,” I explain to Yelena, getting back to her original question, “And this is our headquarters.”  
“You are sparse with details,”  
“We were recruited six years ago when aliens invaded,” She doesn’t even flinch at this, having been on Clint’s side in enough arguments about extraterrestrials. “We kind of all just got stuck with each other.”  
“Merry band of freaks,” Tony explains, raising his mimosa.  
“That is Tony,” I begin.  
“Tony Stark, yes. Obvious.” She waves her hand dismissively, “We have hacking competition soon.”  
“You’ve been out of the game ten years, I don’t think,”  
“Oh, I know you don’t think, that is why I win.” Yelena jests confidently. It quickly becomes apparent that Clint made barebones introductions to the team members who were on the missions.  
“And this is our leader, Steve,”  
“Co-leader,” Steve corrects me, “Nat is my partner.”  
“You look like Captain America. You his grandson?”  
“No,” A heavy sigh exits the super soldier.  
“Captain America is supposed to be dead,”  
“So are you,” Clint nudges her playfully and she steals his bacon. None of this feels real. It is too idyllic, too perfect.  
“Nat and Steve are _friends_ ,” Tony adds.  
“I’m friends with everyone on the team,” I look over at him, tilting my head.  
“Shouldn’t you be home with Pepper?” Clint asks pointedly.  
“She’s on a conference call.”  
“We have a few other team members who are off base right now.” Clint continues to explain, moving attention away from Tony.  
The team brunch continues, and Yelena fits in like a missing puzzle piece. It is like she was always meant to be here.  
Clint volunteers us for cleanup when Bruce asks to see Yelena in the med bay.  
“I fine,” she glares at Bruce. I look to Clint who smiles at me.  
“He just wants to do a physical, Lena. I will meet you down there.” I assure her, though rather reluctantly, as I don’t want to let her out of my sight, but it is the only way to find out what is going on.  
“You trust him?” She looks doubtful.  
“Well she should, he’s her ex,” Tony snorts. He tries to escape before I can murder him, “You know, I’m sure Pep is done with that conference call, I’m going to skedaddle,”  
The rest of the team tapers off with a variety of excuses until it is just me and my best friend. I take a deep breath.  
“Clint, you have thirty seconds.”  
“Wanda found her. She hadn’t died, her blocks were never put back up. They knew her trigger words though. They kept her docile. I read through some of the journals on the jet.” “She was alive, this whole time?” I imagine her being tested, being held prisoner. Taking her blood. Pushing her to her limits. Pushing the serum to its limits.  
“Don’t do this to yourself, Natasha. It isn’t your fault,” Clint shakes his head, loading up the dishwasher.  
“But I left her, I abandoned her,”  
“She’s here now, and she doesn’t remember anything.”  
“But I know, I know I left her. I promised to take care of her. I tried to kill her,”  
“She asked you to, and you thought you were saving her from a worst fate,”  
“But I didn’t! Clint, either way, I failed her,” I begin to hyperventilate, “I failed her, I promised, I promised,”  
“Come on, Tash, deep breaths, it’s okay, you got to breathe though,” he coaches, “You know, Wanda did really well on this mission. Saved my ass. And that knife trick you guys have been working on, great! She pulled a complete ‘you’. Had this whole Nat mindset of making sure that there was no one left behind. She was reckless though, got to talk to her about that.”  
“I should take them home,”  
“Nat, this is a lot to take in, I think maybe staying here for a night might be better. And I’m sure Bruce will want her here for observation, make sure that the wipe went well. Ten years is a long time to take away.”  
“Tomorrow morning, I’m taking her home.”  
“No one is going to stop you, Natasha.”  
“I can’t let him get her, he’ll hurt her. Experiment on her.”  
“Nat, you’re only giving me half the story right now.”  
“Ross, he knows what I am.”  
“You aren’t a _what_. You’re a who,” Clint corrects, turning off the water, “And how do you know?”  
“The meeting, that’s why it ended early. He knows I have the serum, he said I’m like the Winter Soldier. He said I am pretending to be human, that I,”  
“He said that to you?” Clint clenches his jaw.  
“He can’t hurt her,”  
“We won’t let him touch either of you, okay? I need to talk to Steve about something. Go check up on Yelena before she kills Bruce.”  
“You don’t think she would, right?”  
“I meant it as a figure of speech, but I would definitely double check.” He sends me off with a tight smile.  
I find Yelena hopping off the examination table while Bruce and Sam pepper her with questions. She brushes past them when she sees me.  
“I passed health exam,” She explains to me, “We done?”  
“Yes, you’re free to go,” Bruce shakes his head.  
“I’m sure Tony is getting you a cell phone,” I tell her as we walk through the facility. Our tour has led to the training room, and she examines the facility, and then we step into the shooting range.  
“Shootout?” She asks. I nod and we set up, both knowing I will win. “You anxious, relax. I’m not leaving. When I do, I give heads up.” We pull on our headphones and each fire six rounds. The paper targets come back, and I won by a hair, as predicted. “So, you live here?”  
“No, I used to. But Wanda and I moved out a little less than a year ago.”  
“How old is she?”  
“She turned eighteen in November. She is wonderful, I love her so much. Her sense of humor is amazing, she loves sitcoms. And she is a quick study, she speaks ten languages, going on eleven. Sweet and considerate. You’re going to love her,” I promise.  
“She is studying to be a scientist? She put up blocks,”  
“No,” I wait to answer as a new target is automatically set up and we have another round, “She is a witch,” I reply as we finish. Yelena gapes at me, so this gets her but not aliens. “Maria categorized it as,”  
“Maria?” Yelena interrupts, “I like her,”  
“I know you do, but she is dating Sam,”  
“I like him too,” her eyes sparkle with mirth.  
“They are a little too traditional for that,” I laugh.  
“Sorry, I interrupt. Wanda, powers.” She nods seriously, putting the gun away.  
“It is categorized as neural electric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation. She is powerful; her training has come a long way since we first met.”  
“How did you meet?” Yelena asks. I look away. I don’t want to tell her, for her to form an opinion about Wanda before getting to know her.  
“We fought together; her twin brother gave her life to save Clint.” Yelena inspects me, and I know she can tell that I am not telling the whole truth. “She is also so strong and resilient. She lost her leg,”  
“Is cripple?”  
“Don’t you ever, I mean, ever, call her that.” My voice is thin and cold, and I feel my hand drift to my gun.  
“No, I don’t mean bad. Couldn’t tell,”  
“A few hundred hours of physical therapy will do that. She is a lot more than her missing limb. It has only been nine months, and she is already back in the field.”  
“I did not mean to upset you, Tasha. I’m sorry,”  
I nod, cleaning our weapons before putting them away.  
“Your American got old,” She changes the subject as we head out of the firing range.  
“He had three more kids too,”  
“Laura and Cooper,”  
“They are great. I’m sure they will be excited to see you. We will have to go out to the farm,”  
“Farm?”  
“Oh, yes, you’ll have to ask Clint about it. He loves that place.”  
We sit down in the common area, and I give her updates on the world. The invention of the iPhone and Ironman. Clint and Steve join us, the former handing over a new phone to Yelena.  
Wanda walks in from her bedroom, and I know Yelena’s eyes are trained on her leg. Now that she is aware of it, I’m sure she will notice the uneven gate and the occasional stumbles. I regret saying anything, though she would have found out eventually.  
Wanda sits down on the couch next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. This too, seems to be surprising to Yelena, who watches our interaction.  
“Friday, pick out a movie,” Wanda asks the AI.  
“Anything in particular, Miss Maximoff?” the computer asks.  
“That is Friday, she is the artificial intelligence that runs the compound,” I explain.  
“I met Friday. She give me directions to find you in kitchen.” Yelena explains.  
“We used to another system, Jarvis, but he turned into an android person robot,” Clint interrupts.  
“He is a living being,” Wanda argues.  
“Not my fault you are on and off again with a microwave,” he teases his niece. With a flick of her fingers, a pillow comes flying across the room and hits Clint in the face. Yelena watches the display of powers with fascination.  
“Tasha said you were a witch, but,”  
“That’s just the best understanding they have,” Wanda’s powers dance between her fingers lazily.  
“You put up blocks, using powers?” Yelena confirms. She looks up, meeting my sister’s eyes and Yelena jumps back.  
Wanda’s cheeks match her eyes for a moment, before the glowing fades. The arms of her sweatshirt have hidden her hands. I try not to be annoyed with Yelena’s reaction; I should have told her what happens when Wanda uses her powers.  
“How did you get your powers?” Yelena asks. Her open curiosity frequently got her into trouble when we were children. It is how we initially became close, her asking me questions, and I being one of the few who had the patience to answer her. She had asked me what happens on the boat and I told her, explaining the trick on how to survive.  
“I was experimented on,” Wanda whispers, “The documents are all online, you can read them. The rest of the world already has.” The bitterness bleeds into her voice.  
“I understand your anger.” Yelena moves closer once more, back to her original spot, “You think of yourself one way. Wonder if you are you, or if you are what they made you to be. Answer always the same. They never win.” Yelena turns away, focusing on the TV as Friday’s movie selection moves past the opening credits. That was unexpectedly open and thoughtful for Yelena. However, the soft underbelly of my sister quickly disappears as she snorts at something onscreen. Clint is also listing off all the TV shows she had missed and texting her a list.  
“ _Lost_ , is it over?”  
“Oh my God! Don’t even get me started!” Clint exclaims, “You will never believe it. Worst ending in cinematic history. And we have to get you started on _Game of Thrones_ , its nice and violent. You’ll love it. And that is a show you know they’re going to end right; you know?”   
The rest of the day is spent on the couch, with Sam and Bruce joining later, Rhodey and Tony having gone over to the cabin across the lake. Despite how good the day had been, I am on edge. None of this seems right. Yesterday was too bad for today to be so good. I keep looking over at Yelena, scared she is going to disappear. Or that the government is going to come and try to take me away from Wanda, and that we won’t have time to hide Yelena. How long can we hide her for? How long until the world finds out who she is?  
A hand squeezes mine. Wanda. Her gaze remains on the TV, but her attention is trained on me. I’m worrying her.  
“I’m going to make dinner,” I need to do something. I can’t sit here. It is like there are bugs crawling under my skin.  
“You just got me back, and now you try to kill me?” Yelena looks over with mild amusement. “Unless you good cook now? I cook.” She stands up from the couch, “You go throw knives or something. Run laps.” I can feel the others watching our exchange.  
“Tash, I could go for a run,” Clint rises from his spot, “Give me five?”  
We end up on the track. And I run laps around Clint as he jogs, slow even for him. I stop beside him after lapping for the fourth time, growing irritated.  
“What are you doing? I thought you said you could go for a run,”  
“I’m just waiting for you to tire yourself out so you will relax and be able to have a conversation.”  
“I am fine!”  
“Tash, you zoned out on the couch for almost an entire movie.” Had it been that long? I thought I only lost a minute or two. “Hey, it’s okay. But I can’t know what is going on in your head unless you tell me."  
“Today is too good! This is going too well!” I run my fingers through my hair, ripping at the tangles. “This shouldn’t be my day! This isn’t what today was supposed to be.”  
“Oh, so you are clairvoyant now?”  
“Clint, I am not in the mood for the jokes.”  
“Sometimes a good day is just a good day. It doesn’t have to be an omen.”  
“She okay, she’s alive.” It finally sets in. This is all real. My sister isn’t dead. She never died. I abandoned her, but she survived.   
“Yes, she is. She’s okay, really. Did you see her with the team? It’s good, Nat.”  
“Why is she so normal?” I sit down on the rubber. “They are all going to know now.”  
“Know what?”  
“That I’m not this way because of the serum, this is just me. All broken and damaged. They will know there is something wrong with me.”  
“Oh, Nat, come on.” Clint sits down against the wall beside me. “You aren’t broken, don’t say that.”  
“She is social and funny. She became friends with everyone instantly. It took me almost a year to be able to be able to hang out with everyone.”  
“It is thanks to you that she can do that, remember?” He lightly bumps my shoulder, “You took her place in experiments, distracted them during punishments. Nat, you’re her hero. You should have seen her face when I said we were taking her to you. She felt that it had been a long time, she missed you. You saved her.”  
“But they are all going to know.”  
“Nat, you have been unmade and remade more times than I could count. I barely survived it once, let alone habitually since childhood.”  
“Don’t diminish what happened to you just because,”  
“See? Right there,” Clint stops me with a kind smile, “You’re kind, Nat. And empathetic, giving, loyal.”  
“I’m not jealous of Yelena.” I explain, “At all. I am happy for her, beyond happy. I love her so much and am so grateful that she has the opportunity to be more. If I was given the choice, and had to go through everything again, I would do nothing different. I would never want to take this away from her, the fact that she is so unabashedly human. I just hate that I’m not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Wanda's POV, I have missed our Little Witch! It will be up late this week. I'm sorry my posting has been slow, my life is extremely busy and stressful right now. But, I am still loving writing this series, so I promise if I disappear for longer than usual, I have no abandoned our girls!  
> Thank you again! And I really appreciate every comment I receive, they make my day!!


	26. Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning for past attempted underage non-con**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you are having a good week! This chapter was originally almost ten thousand words lol, so I had to split it into two. It was so hard finding where to split it up, I almost just posted the entire thing. So, because of this, the next chapter is already almost finished! I will try and post it by Wednesday night! As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated. I really do love hearing from you all! Enjoy!

I sit beside Cap on the couch as he reads the newspaper, the rest of the team having dispersed until dinner.  
“Steve,” He looks up from his paper, and I see now it is not just Natasha who looks exhausted, but him as well. “What happened at the meeting?” I chew on my thumbnail, “Is it my fault? Is that what’s going on with Nat?”  
“No, you’re fine. We just got some unexpected news yesterday. Neither of us slept.” He folds up his paper.  
“What was it?” A heavy sigh is emitted, as he seems to contemplate whether or not to tell me.  
“Ross knows Nat has the serum; we don’t exactly know how. But what he said, it hit a little too close to home for her.”  
“What did he say to her?” I jump up from the couch, “We have to stop him, what if he tells everyone? Or comes after her, he could put her on the Raft, or experiment on her. Is Area 51 a real thing? Would they,”  
“Spoke will Ellis on a secure line yesterday. Nothing is going to come of it. He was just taunting her. He first got her riled up with,” Steve cuts himself off.  
“With what?”  
“It isn’t important. What matters is that we got cleared for another five years, and that there is nothing to worry about in regard to Ross.” He puts his folded paper to the side, “Now, some deep breaths, okay? No one is going to take Nat away. I can go grab her right now,” I look down at my hands and see them pulsing. “What do you need, Wanda?” I focus on slowing my heart rate down. No one is taking her away. She isn’t going anywhere.  
“I’m okay,” I tighten my ponytail, “I’m going to hang out in my room until dinner,”  
“If you want to spar or something, let me know,” Steve calls out after me. I give a nod in thanks, slipping down the hall and closing the door.  
My AP European textbook has been left open on my desk, and I settle down to continue on the Tennis Court Oath, which led to the French Revolution. Nat assigned me a short essay comparing it and the Declaration of Independence, along with the immediate effects of both. As I close out the chapter, and stretch my cramped hand from notetaking, there is a gentle knock on my door.  
“Hi love, dinner is ready.” Natasha walks into the bedroom. She seems to have showered since her time with Clint and changed into fresh clothes. She has held a slightly gaunt and haunted look since the factory explosion, though had started to look better until yesterday. I think she believes we don’t see it, don’t notice. Like how she thinks we don’t see her wearing clothes to cover the burn scars on her arms and legs. Even now, she wears a camel colored cashmere sweater and jeans. “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask you how the mission went for you,” She sits down on the bed, smoothing out my comforter.  
“I punched a man’s jaw off,” I tell her, snapping my textbook shut and sitting down beside her. “It was,” I swallow, “awful.”  
“I’m sorry, but you couldn’t have known that would happen, you didn't mean it,”  
“I thought I had more control, but he suffered. The last moments of his life were absolute hell and it was my fault.”  
“He was a bad person, Wanda. You didn’t mean to prolong his death. And you don’t have to go on missions. Being on the team is optional. No one would think any less of you for it.”  
“Having these powers and not doing anything with them? That is terrible.”  
“No, its choice and free will. You did not choose to have these powers. So, you get to choose what to do with them.” She undoes my ponytail and fixes it. “Though I am happy to debate the merits of fate versus free will, I think we should do it after dinner.” She plants a gentle kiss on my forehead and pulls me off the bed. “You are a good person, Wanda. Don’t forget that.”   
In the common room, the team has begun to gather around the table once more, sans Tony. A tray of lasagna and a plate of garlic bread sit in the center of the table.  
“You did not make this,” Clint accuses.  
“Did too, touch oven!” She crosses her arms, glaring at him as she takes her seat across from him. The seating has shifted again, now I am between Nat and Clint, with Nat in her usual spot to the right of Steve. Yelena sits between Bruce and Sam, with Sam next to Steve.  
“I think it looks excellent.”  
“Thank you,” She smiles triumphantly. As well all begin to eat, Clint narrows his eyes.  
“This tastes like Stouffer’s and Texas Toast,”  
“I put it in oven, counts as cooking!” This gets a laugh out of Natasha, a rare sound these days.  
“Lena, thank you for cooking dinner, even if you didn’t make it.”  
“What do you expect? Cooking not part of my education.”  
“So, any fun Natasha stories you can share with us?” Sam asks.  
“Da,” Natasha looks at her suspiciously, “Oh Tasha, only good ones.” She sets down her fork. “One time, Tasha was picked to be my handler. My second mission, Tasha only nineteen. Youngest trainer. Got fired for being too gentle. More missions instead. But got fired from being handler too. I have mission in Moscow, Tasha babysit, take train back to Volgograd. Eighteen hours. When I was on mission, she steal khvorost,”  
“They are these fried cookies, called angel wings in English,” Natasha cuts in to explain.  
“I have bad sweet tooth, no dessert in Red Room. She show me pastry bag with dessert, I reach into bag and pull out bottles of vodka. Train arrives in Volgograd, old woman tell Ivan we drinking. Punished, but worth it for happy memory.”  
“Definitely worth it,” Natasha agrees, smiling fondly at her sister, “But you forget all the other times I brought you sweets without getting caught.”  
“After each solo mission, I do not forget.”  
“My last mission, the one in Miami, there was a bag of gummy alligators in my hotel room that I was going to bring back.” Clint looks over at her, surprised.  
“What about you, Wanda? You have sweet tooth?” Yelena asks me. Her gaze is intense, and I find myself shrinking in my chair.  
“I like strawberries,”  
“When Wanda first moved here, she couldn’t believe we had them out of season. I think you must have eaten a pound a week for the first few months,” Natasha nudges me.  
“Move here? Where are you from? Other state?” I bite my cheeks. This is beginning to feel like an interrogation.  
“Sokovia, Novi Grad.”  
“I been. Beautiful city.” I look down at my plate, appetite gone.  
“It doesn’t exist anymore.” Natasha’s hand rubs my back.  
“I’m sorry, I not mean to upset.”  
“Its fine. Not like I’m allowed into the country anyway.” Natasha’s hand stills.  
“None of us are allowed into Sokovia, not just you,” She reminds me.  
“Your accent is good, I thought you were American,”  
“Nat helped me get rid of it.” I feel everyone looking at me. I think this is the most I have ever talked at a team dinner. My cheeks are hot. This is probably the longest string of words most of them have heard me speak.  
“Yelena, you have to come out to the farm.” Clint blessedly takes the attention off of me, and I relax back into my chair. “Meet my kids, see Laura.”  
“Of course you have farm and truck. You so American, it hurts. More than this guy,” She gestures to Steve, who snorts.  
“You’ll love the farm, Lena. And they just had a new baby, only two months old. She is beautiful. We’ll spend a few days at my place and then head out.” Natasha pushes her hair back, and the sleeve to her sweater rides up, exposing the burn scars on her arms. She quickly pulls the sleeves back down. But she doesn’t drift, which is an improvement.  
Dinner is cleared and the team breaks off once more, with Bruce heading back to Virginia.  
“Wanda, your report is due tomorrow,” Nat reminds me as we finish the dishes. I pout as everyone else heads to the lounge for a game of pool.  
“Can’t I ask my teacher for an extension?”  
“Sorry, out of office.” Nat gently tugs my ponytail, “Get to it, chickadee. We’re going to be home this weekend, and I think you want to spend it with your friends, not catching up on schoolwork.” I head out of the room, sulking, and sit down at my desk.  
As I finish off the fifth, and final page, of the essay, Natasha pokes her head in. She has a loose and bright smile, sauntering into my room. I wonder if it is alcohol, but closer observation shows that she is simply _happy_.  
“What?”  
“Nothing, it’s just nice to see you smiling again.” I email her my paper and stand up, stumbling slightly. She is at my side in an instant, all traces of her grin gone.  
“Are you okay? You went to medical when you got back from the mission, right? Are you sure you weren’t injured?”  
“My foot got caught on the carpet, at home we have all hardwood.” She nods, but the concern doesn’t leave her eyes. “I’m okay, Nat, really.”  
“Don’t forget you have Chad coming on Friday.” I nod and she folds down my comforter, prepping it for me. “Goodnight Little Witch, I love you.”  
“I love you too.”

* * *

His hand is moving up my thigh, I can’t move. My eyes widen as his face morphs, now missing his jaw. The blood splatters onto my face, and I blink rapidly, trying to keep it out of my eyes. His hand moves higher up, his grip tightening. The other doctor is supposed to stop him. Tell him no. My eyes search the room for him. For the Doctor. Instead, I find one of the scientists. His heads hangs on by just a flap of skin, dangling and stretching, blood dripping onto the floor. His mouth is moving, but I can’t make out the words. The hand moves higher. No. No. No. The metal table starts to shake faster and faster. The tools clatter off.  
I’m in the back of the van, my face slamming into the metal floor. Tremors jolt out of my body as the electricity pumps through me. But I’m in a straight jacket too. I won’t be able to escape. I could only escape because I ripped out the bug. They are going to kill me. Dissect me. Screams fill my ears. My screams.  
The Avengers surround me. All dead. Their necks snapped cleanly. Natasha’s eyes are dull and blank, a thin trail of blood coming out of her mouth. I kill them all. I killed her. I killed her. The jacket tightens around me, restricting my movements.  
“Wanda, Wanda, love, wake up, come on. You’re okay. Wake up, Little Witch,” My eyes fly open and I see a pair of arms wrapped around me, I twist in a panic, only to catch sight of familiar flaming red hair. I relax into her embrace, my heart pounding. “There we go, there you are.” She rocks me gently, and I notice we are on the floor.  
“I destroyed my bed,” I hiccup. The piece of furniture had been shattered; blankets torn. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”  
“It’s okay. You’re okay.”  
“What time is it?”  
“Four o’clock. You almost made it through the night here. That’s an improvement.”  
“That isn’t,” I nod to the bed.  
“Let’s celebrate the little victories.” I bury my head in her chest. “It’s okay, love. I’m right here.”  
I wake back up in Natasha’s arms, still in the same place. She is wide awake, and sunlight now streams through the windows. She kept vigil through the morning.  
“Good morning,”  
“I’m sorry,”  
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” She pulls me up from the ground and hands me my crutches. “Clint made breakfast, and we know his pancakes are better than mine. Don’t tell him I said that,”  
I follow her out to the kitchen and feel Yelena’s eyes land on my leg, or lack thereof. I sit down at the dining table.  
“How did you sleep?” Natasha asks, grabbing us three mugs of coffee.  
“Like baby. Got here just a few seconds before you.” Clint turns around and gives the three of us a smile, sliding me the first round of pancakes. Then Nat. I don’t miss that her pile is a little larger, and I hope she does. Her appetite hasn’t really returned. For Yelena, she gets a single pancake and a smirk.  
“American, not funny! You don’t mess with breakfast,” Clint doesn’t turn around, continuing to cook. “Clint, do not ignore me,”  
The archer turns around a moment later with the rest of Yelena’s pancakes. She glares at him.  
“You too old for silent treatment,” she grumbles, her lips barely moving. It is quickly becoming apparent that Clint forgot to wear his hearing aids this morning.  
“What did she say?” he signs to me and Nat.  
“She called you American and was pissed that you gave her a short stack.”  
“Short stack for the short stack.” Clint says aloud. He grabs his own plate of pancakes, setting them down next to Yelena, before darting out to his room. He returns a moment later, fiddling with his ears.  
“Sorry. I haven’t been wearing them at home for Lila. It seems to make her feel better,”  
“What happened?” Yelena stares at her friend, all hints of teasing gone.  
“I lost my hearing two Christmases ago on a mission. Sonic arrow gone wrong.”   
“I miss a lot.” Yelena looks between Nat and Clint. I feel a pang of pity for the woman, to have life go by without her must be painful. She woke up on the quinjet ten years in the future.  
“So, you three should come out Monday. Cooper and Lila have been asking when they will see their favorite aunt and cousin again. Needless to say, my side of the family is way cooler. We ever brought someone back from the dead,” He nudges the blonde.  
“How is Lila doing?” Natasha asks.  
“She is angry and frustrated, which I understand. The coordination in her hands has improved, which is great. I am flying home today, though I am sure Laura has mixed feelings about that.” Breakfast continues without the rest of the team making an appearance. Natasha goes to find Steve as I shower and pack my bag shortly after.  
When I reemerge, Natasha takes my duffel bag from me.  
“What do you have in here, rocks?”  
“Textbooks. Because someone does not believe in online books.”  
“An insult to literature.”  
We head out to the hanger where my car is parked, and I pop the trunk. It is lucky we took my car to the compound, as I have a small backseat. I don’t know what we would do had we taken the Porsche. I have a feeling I would have been given a ride to the city by Happy or Tony.  
Natasha puts down the passenger seat to allow Yelena to climb into the back. The smaller Widow tilts her head at me.  
“You drive?”  
“I’m eighteen.” Her gaze move down to my leg. I avert my eyes and sit down in my seat. “Nat taught me, we made it work.”  
The drive into the city is not without it struggles as we hit traffic. Yelena fills the silence, telling stories of her time travelling the world. The tales range from funny, to heartwarming, and disturbing. Her presence feels like a slight invasion, as in the car is one of the few times Nat and I are completely alone with no distractions.  
We get off the highway and I drive through the city, pulling up to our building. I park and hand my keys to the valet Yelena’s eyes widen at the sight of the structure. Albert, our doorman, welcomes us home.  
“Tasha, you sellout.” Nat laughs and presses the elevator button to our floor.  
“You haven’t seen anything yet, Little Sister,” she teases. I experience a swell of jealousy at the similar term of endearment so similar to my own. It is with a heavy heart that I listen to their banter, feeling like a third wheel.  
We step off the elevator and Nat undoes the series of locks to our apartment. Nat drops our bags at the entry to be dealt with later, clearly excited to show her sister the apartment. First is the den, where I don’t think anyone has ever actually sat, followed by the kitchen.  
“Tasha you don’t cook,” Yelena laughs.  
“Yes, I do. I make sandwiches.”  
“Okay, sestra,” She rolls her eyes and Natasha pulls on her braid. I feel watch the interaction and feel a knot begin to form in my stomach.  
The dining room and living room are next. Followed by the gym. Yelena asses the equipment with poorly concealed excitement. The tour of my room is brief, just a quick look, and we move to Nat’s. Yelena steps in and her smile disappears.  
“Oh, Tasha,” She puts a hand on Natasha’s footboard. The bed is beautiful, wrought iron from Ballard designs with fluffy white bedding. I don’t understand the grief lining her voice. Until she moves to the headboard and pushes aside the throw pillows on the right side of the bed. One of the rails on the antique brass has been scratched, the color worn down to a dull silver. “Still?”  
Natasha looks away, “Come on, I’ll show you the library.” I follow them, wondering just how often Nat cuffs herself to the bed. I had only seen it once, and my grip on reality at the time was not stable. It can’t be every night. But she bought the brass bed anticipating the need to chain herself to it.  
“You read,”  
“Of course.”  
“Have you gone back to the bookstore?” Natasha shakes her head, and I am left out of the conversation, not given an explanation.  
“I was going to, once, but,” She pauses, swallowing twice, “I just never made it back.”  
“We go. I see Missile and old lady.” I am completely lost, but Nat laughs.  
“What do you think of my home, Lena?”   
“Is wonderful. Is you.” She runs her hand across Nat’s desk, and her eyes catch on a pair of ballet slippers in a shadowbox, kept on the bookshelf right behind. She pauses for a moment and then tears her eyes away. “Happy for you, Tasha.”  
My phone dings and I look down, a text from Peter, hearing that I am back in the city for a few days.  
“Go hang out with your friends,” Nat smiles at me, “Be home by eight. Chad will be here early in the morning. Deal?” I nod and give her a hug goodbye. She gives me an extra squeeze and sends me off, already moving on to show Yelena her collection of first edition Tolstoy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked this chapter!! Thank you for reading!!


	27. Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning for underage drinking and recreational drug use**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day!! I know, I have hit a burst of inspiration!  
> I also realized I never told you all what the 2 alternate plot points were instead of Wanda losing her leg! One option was memory loss, because I am 100% a sucker for an amnesia story line, they are my favorite. The other option, which I had quite a bit written out for, was Wanda going blind.  
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thank you all for following along!  
> As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!

  
Peter is waiting across the street at the edge of Central Park. He waves excitedly when he sees me, shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other.  
“Hey, welcome home,”  
“For a few days.” I shrug and we begin to walk through the park. A gust of wind sends shivers through me, forcing me to zip up my coat.  
“Where are you going?”  
“Monday we’re heading out to Clint’s for the week. Did Tony tell you about Nat’s sister returning from the dead?”  
“Yes, that’s awesome! She must be so happy.” I shove my hands into my coat pockets, “Wanda?” I look over at him as we make our way to the hotdog stand, I buy us each one. “Aren’t you happy for her?”  
“Yes, I am,” I lie. Peter doesn’t seem to believe me as he takes a bite of his hot dog. “What if she won’t want me anymore?” He stares at me like I have grown three heads. I look down at my hands to make sure they aren’t glowing, and they aren’t.  
“You can’t be serious. Nat loves you.”  
“But she had Yelena first. I could just be a replacement. But now that she has the original back, what is the point of keeping me? All I do is cause her stress. Last night, she didn’t get to sleep because I was too busy destroying my bedroom, _again_. She wouldn’t have that kind of stress with Yelena. And she is friendly, outgoing, everyone on the team already loves her. They just tolerate me,”  
“Wanda, stop. Have you told Nat what you’re feeling? Or at least talked to Sam?” I look down at my phone, three missed calls from the latter, I’m supposed to be in session with him right now. In the excitement of having her sister home, Nat forgot to force me to talk to him.  
“I don’t want to bother her. She worries about me enough. Right now, she should be enjoying that her sister has come back to the dead. I can’t imagine how I would be if Pietro were here.”  
“I really think she’d be upset if she knew you were feeling this way and didn’t talk to her,”  
“Peter,” I warn. He takes my hot dog wrapper and puts it in the trash.  
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” His eyes shoot down to my hands, I put them back into my pockets, “There is a party this weekend, if you want to come. It should be fun.”  
“I’m not sure,”  
“Open invitation. MJ has been asking about you, so have Ned and Betty.”  
“I’ll think about it.”  
“And you’re sure you want to try this today? I mean, maybe we should do it somewhere else.”  
“It can’t be too busy on a Thursday at four o’clock.” We reach the Wollman Rink, and as predicated, it is fairly empty. “I knew how to skate before I lost my leg. This can’t be much different.” Peter nods and I pay for our entry and skate rentals. With Peter’s help, we manage to get the skate onto my prosthetic. I stand up and Peter instantly grabs my arm.  
“I still don’t like this idea. You should at least have a helmet or something.”  
“I will catch myself if I start to fall.”  
“Or blow the rink to pieces,” he mutters. I stick my tongue out at him. We step onto the ice and I hold tight to the railing. We get a few curious glances, but nothing more. “Nat is going to kill us if she finds out,”  
“We can just not tell her,” I remind him.  
“And if she asks what we did today?”  
“We hung out in Central Park. Leaving out parts of the story doesn’t make it a lie.”  
“Actually, I’m pretty sure that is called a lie of omission.” I let go of the wall and Peter nervously skates around me. Carefully, I test out bending my artificial knee, seeing how it reacts to the ice. I use it to push off and Peter keeps beside me, hovering.  
“See? Fine,” I push off with my real leg, skating forward. My cockiness gets me, and I topple, falling backwards. I hit the ice with a dull thud.  
“Wanda? Wanda are you okay? Should I call Nat? An ambulance?”  
“Peter, I am fine. Just help me up.” I put out my arms and he pulls me off the ground. “People fall ice skating all the time,”  
“Yeah, but,”  
“I am fine.” He nods. We skate for a little while longer, until I cannot stand Peter’s concerned looks for another second. He buys us both hot cocoas while we work the skate off my prosthetic.  
“Next time, I think we should bring your walker and put tennis balls onto it or something,”  
“I do not want to bring that thing in public,” I curl my lip. “Maybe we rent out a rink or something.”  
“Or you do this with Nat.” I shoot him a look and he drops it.  
By the time we make it back to my building, I’m limping heavily. We had stopped for dinner at a nearby Mexican restaurant, and Peter snacks on leftover tortilla chips. “See you Saturday, maybe?”  
“Maybe,” I nod, and Albert opens the door. The elevator is silent, and I vaguely remember Steve saying something about them having music at one point.  
The door to the apartment unlocked, and I step inside, forcing myself not to favor my left leg.  
“Nat?” I call out. I find her in the living room with Yelena, braiding her sister’s long blonde hair.  
“Hi love, did you have fun with Peter?” I nod, watching her fingers move deftly.  
“We went for Italian. Tasha got you dessert,” Yelena adds as Nat finishes her crown braid. I smile in thanks and head into the kitchen, opening up the fridge. It is tiramisu from _our_ place. Our Italian restaurant. And Nat went without me.  
I leave the dessert in the fridge and walk back out, hurt. Yelena is in my spot on the couch, as she picks out a movie.  
“We’re going to watch some of the Russian movies that Yelena has missed, starting with _Elena_. Do you want to join?” Natasha twists around to look at me.  
“I think I am going to try and get some more schoolwork done,”  
“Are you sure?” I nod, walking out of the room. When I close the door to my bedroom, I sit down on the floor, ripping off my pants. I had lied to Peter.  
Pulling off the sock, I can see bruises beginning to mottle the skin on my stump. As if it wasn’t ugly enough already. I think regretfully of my failed attempt at plastic surgery. It should have worked. The lightbulb for my desk lamp explodes. I wait for Natasha to come running in, but she doesn’t.  
By the time she does, I have cleaned up the glass and taken a shower, climbing under the covers. She sits down on my bed, where my right shin should be. I hate it when she sits there, and she knows that.   
“What did you and Peter do today?”  
“We walked around the park, went out for Mexican food,” She leans forward, brushing the hair out of my face, “He invited me to a party on Saturday, can I go?” Nat’s face lights up.  
“Of course. Tomorrow, after Chad comes, what if we went shopping for a new outfit?” I grin, “The three of us will have a blast.” I try not to let her see my enthusiasm dim.  
“Is Yelena staying here?” She nods, “Where?”  
“On the pullout couch in the den.”  
“Wait, if we have a pullout, why does Clint always sleep in your room on the floor?”  
“Because he is a hoverer, remember?” Natasha stands up, pulling the blankets tight around me.  
“Tasha, next movie is starting!”  
“I love you, Little Witch,”  
“Love you to, Mom.” She touches her forehead to mine and then rises from the bed, the door clicking shut behind her.

Chad quickly discovers my bruises. We are not even ten minutes into our hour-long session.  
“Wanda, what happened?”  
“I went ice skating. I’m fine.”   
“You should have worn extra padding around,”  
“I am not some porcelain doll. I don’t shatter if the wind blows the wrong way.”  
“These are some really bad bruises, Wanda. Your leg is not as strong as you like to pretend it is. Has Natasha seen this?”  
“No. She didn’t notice.” Chad frowns at me, his blonde brows furrowing. “I may have hidden it.”  
“Take it easy for the rest of the day. I’ll see you again in two weeks, you’re going away next week, right?”  
“Yeah,” I sigh.  
“Hey, ten months ago, if I had told you that I’d be scolding you for ice skating, you would have laughed in my face.”  
“I guess.”  
“Don’t get mopey on me now when you have gotten so far. I won’t allow it.”  
“You won’t allow it?” I smirk.  
“No. Sorry. Against the rules,” He shrugs. “I’ll see you in two weeks, okay Wand?” I sit on the bench for a few minutes, waiting. The door to the gym bursts open, Natasha running in.  
“You got hurt and didn’t tell me?” She kneels down, inspecting my leg.  
“I’m fine, I just fell.”  
“Wanda, you can always tell me, no matter how small. I am already worrying anyway. It is actually more worrying that you didn’t say anything.” Her red lips pinch. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”  
“You were busy,” I argue.  
“I am never too busy for you, especially when it comes to your wellbeing.” She rises up from the ground, handing me my crutches. “And Chad told me he wanted you to take it easy for the day. No shopping.” I pretend to be disappointed. “You’re a superhero but remember that you’re human first.”  
“Okay.” I think of how she throws herself into battle no matter what. And I’m sure Yelena wouldn’t let some bruises stop her.  
“What if we played some games instead? There are so many we play now that there are three of us. We could play Cards Against Humanity, Pandemic, Five Second Rule,”  
“I think I’m going to go back to sleep for a little while. It’s still early.”  
“Are you sure?” Third wheeling with her and Yelena while I’m in pain seems like a new kind of torture. “If you want help with your English homework later, just let me know.” I nod and head into my room.  
When I wake up from my nap, I can hear them laughing in the living room. Natasha, laughing. Yelena is trying, and failing, to sing showtunes, which Natasha hates. Or at least I thought she did. Like how I thought she didn’t let anyone call her Tasha. I get to work on my English homework, not asking for help as I would hate to interrupt the sisters from their fun.   
“Wanda, dinner is here,” Natasha calls out.  
I leave my bedroom without my leg and can once again feel Yelena’s eyes on my missing limb. She sits down in my spot, my chair.  
“That’s my seat.” I say plainly, my patience beginning to wear thin.  
“Wanda, just sit somewhere else, it is not a big deal.” Natasha raises her eyebrows.  
“I move,”  
“No. It’s fine.” I sit at the opposite end of our dinning table for twelve.  
“Wanda,” Natasha warns, and pulls out the other seat next to her.  
I stand up, but my crutch gets caught on the dining chair. The chair tumbles, and me with it. Thankfully, with a burst of my powers, I catch myself and grab onto the dining table.  
“Are you okay?” Nat is at my side instantly.  
“I’m fine,” My eyes slide over her shoulder, and I see Yelena staring with open pity. Hot tears burn at my eyes. Nat goes to inspect my leg, “I said I’m fine!” The glass to the china cabinet shatters behind us.  
“Deep breaths, okay love?” I look around the room, and see guarded caution, almost fear, coming off Yelena.  
“Did you tell her?” I cry, “Did you tell her what I did? What I did to you?”  
“What? No. I did not. No.” She grabs my shoulders, “Come on, you’re okay. Four, seven, eight. You can do it.” I let out a shaky breath. Her hold on my shoulders morphs into an embrace, which holds me up entirely. “There we go, one more time.” She helps me back into my chair. My eyes sting from tears. _What is wrong with her? What did she do to Tasha?_  
I whip my head to Yelena, staring at her. Nat seems to pick up that Yelena just thought something, and I heard it.  
“Lena, Wanda can hear thoughts.” She at least has the decency to look embarrassed, “I am going to make you a cup of tea, okay?”  
This leaves me alone with Yelena for the first time. Though Natasha’s age, she looks younger. Its her eyes. They aren’t so haunted. I feel a twinge of hatred that she came out of the Red Room unscathed, while Natasha is tortured by her time there. Neither of us speak in the two minutes it takes for Nat to return with tea.

* * *

I spend most of Saturday in my room. When I finally do emerge, Nat and Yelena are painting each other’s nails and watching one of Nat’s legal dramas. I grab a mug of coffee and hide back in my room.  
For the party, I change into my favorite jeans and a black and white striped t-shirt with a sweater. There is a knock on the door just as I am pulling on my new Doc Martin’s. With a wave of my fingers, the door opens.  
“You look pretty,”  
“Thank you,” I look up as I finish putting on the shoes. Natasha comes over and pulls my hair out of my face, into a high ponytail.  
“Show off those cheekbones,” She brushes imaginary lint off my shoulder. “Have fun tonight, okay? Make smart choices, and no matter what, you can call me to pick you up. You can call me, and I will be there in an instant. If you need me to come and get you, you call. Please be careful. I know that roofies are more of a college party thing, but,”  
“I’m going to a small party hosted by someone from Midtown. I highly doubt there will be anything illegal going on.”  
“I just worry.”  
“I don’t want you to worry,” I frown. Natasha looks as though she is about to say something else. “What are you and Yelena doing tonight?”  
“We are going to this axe throwing place she saw online, its attached to a bowling alley. Honestly, I think it might be a disaster,” Natasha snorts, “But it will be fun. When we first took down the Red Room, she tried every hobby under the sun. I wouldn’t be surprised if bowling or wood working were two of them. She has a zest for life that I admire,” Her eyes shine with affection in describing her sister. I feel the knot in my stomach tighten further. “I want you sharing your location with me the entire time. Understood?”  
“Couldn’t you just hack my phone?”  
“Can’t you just save your mother the trouble?” I nod. “Aren’t you going to wear a coat?”  
“We’re taking an Uber from here to the party.” My phone dings, “Actually, MJ and Peter are downstairs.”  
“Okay, be safe,” I hurry out the door.  
Thankfully, the dark purple bruises had faded to yellow, courtesy of my enhanced healing, and I am able to walk into the lobby without limping.  
“Hey, Wanda it’s good to see you,” MJ smiles at me. Peter turns his attention away from his amicable conversation with Albert.  
“So happy you decided to come to the party,” We step outside to wait for our Uber, now only one minute away.  
“I’m just happy to get out of the house.”  
“Things aren’t going well?” Peter asks sympathetically.  
“I hate the way she looks at me. It’s a weird mix of pity and fear,” I huff, my breath fogging into the night air.  
“Your mom’s sister is visiting, right?”  
“Yes, she came back from the dead. Because apparently that is what other people’s siblings can do now.” The Uber pulls up and the three of us smoosh together in the backseat.  
“She won’t stay with you guys forever,” MJ offers.  
“Yeah. You have a two-bedroom apartment. If she were moving in with you, you’d have to get a new place.” MJ slaps Peter’s arm.  
“Do you think Nat is going to have us move?” Leave the first home I have known since I was ten years old. Would she do that? Have us find a new place. Our neighbors don’t stare at us, they don’t ask questions. Even the old lady downstairs, Ms. Bisset, has the courage to chastise Natasha now and again for training at three in the morning.  
“No, of course not. Sorry, that was stupid.” The car pulls up a half a block from the party location. We walk the remainder of the way and reach the house. There is the distant thumping of music and a flood of drunken thoughts that I quickly block out as we approach the house.  
“Ned and Betty said they’re already here,” MJ looks up from her phone, “Entrance is in the back.”  
We walk through the small backyard, barely bigger than a courtyard. A sliding glass door reveals the basement and there are people lingering by it, smoking, while inside, the space is filled with people.  
“Peter, you said this was a small party,” MJ accuses, her eyes darting to me quickly.  
“That’s what they said, a small get together,”  
“You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine.” I bite, irritated. Everyone is always acting like I will explode at any moment. It is humiliating and degrading.  
“Sorry, I know. Let’s go inside.” Peter pulls open the door. My former classmates barely pay me any mind, and I make a conscious effort to keep my powers at bay. A beer appears in my hand. I take a sip of the cheap domestic, cringing as it burns my throat.  
“I am guessing they won’t have champagne?” I turn to Peter and MJ.  
“Yeah, no. Sorry this isn’t one of the Avenger parties,” A kid laughs, but good naturedly. We meet up with Betty and Ned, who are on again, according to Peter during our time in Central Park on Thursday.  
“There must be at least sixty people here,” Peter looks around, and I remember he has enhanced senses. This all must be overwhelming for him as well. MJ laces her fingers through his, and some of his stress disappears. Not for the first time, I miss Vision. I quickly lose track of my friends. Another beer is handed my way, followed by a full red Solo cup filled with what a boy refers to as jungle juice.  
I am in the middle of an Avengers story, with a rapt audience, when I spy Peter for the first time since we arrived. I break off, stumbling towards him. I fall onto his shoulders and push myself off with a pulse of red.  
“Wanda, are you okay? We lost you,”  
“I’m great,” I slur, “Everyone is so nice! They like hearing my stories. I don’t know why I thought it was all so bad,” I look around, “Where is MJ?”  
“With Ned and Betty. I wanted to find you, make sure you were okay,”  
“Thank you for bringing me, Peter. I’m fun, right? More fun than Yelena. I have a zest for life. I do.”  
“We should get you some water, or some pretzels,”  
“Wanda, have you ever smoked a bong before?” A voice calls over, one of the boys I was regaling. I shake my head. “Come on I’ll show you,” I begin to head over and Peter grabs my wrist.  
“Are you sure that is a good idea? You know, with your powers and everything?” Peter runs his fingers through his hair, “What would Nat say?”  
“Nat wouldn’t say much of anything. She is too focused on Yelena,” I slur.  
“I know you and painkillers don’t mix, I just think,”  
“You aren’t him.” I rip my arm out of his grasp.  
“What?”   
“You aren’t my brother, so stop trying to act like it. You aren’t Pietro,”  
“Wanda, I would never,”  
“Just leave me alone, Peter.” I brush past Peter and over the couch. On the coffee table is the bong. I watch as someone inhales from the large glass instrument, and then lean forward, copying their movements. The smoke fills my lungs and I exhale through my nose, trying to hold back the coughs and the nausea filling my stomach. Someone passes me a water bottle, and I drink it readily.  
A familiar and unwelcome feeling begins to surface. My thoughts feel cloudy and dulled. I look up, and in the corner of the room stands a man in a lab coat. I bashed his skull in, throwing him against the wall. I killed him. He shouldn’t be here. I pull my eyes away, and they land on my hand. The port is sticking out. No. No. No. I stand up, stumbling away from the couch. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. People are touching me. So many bodies. So many thoughts. They flood every inch of my mind. The Doctor is leaning over a cooler, his neck broken, as he picks out something to drink. Beside him, the scientist with his neck hanging on only by a flap of skin raises a cigarette to his upside-down lips. The man who’s jaw I tried to punch off appears in front of me, trying to speak. His blood drips onto my new shoes. I have to get out of here. I can get away from them. They can’t hurt me. I can run. Hide. Out the sliding door.  
I stumble pass the group of smokers loitering by the glass. The frozen grass crunches under my feet.  
“Krolik,” A long forgotten voice sings out. Rabbit, my old nickname, for the way my nose twitched when I was tired. No. She is dead. Mama is dead. The voice calls out again, tinkling like windchimes. There is a small shed up ahead. I unlock the padlock with a quick wave and hide inside.  
It is dark and smells of soil and mildew. I maneuver myself to hide behind the lawnmower, hoping that they won’t find me here. The small window offers some moonlight, and in the dim glow, I scratch at the port, trying to pull it out.  
I was at a party, right? I came with Pietro. No. Not Pietro. Pietro is dead. I came with Peter, and MJ. What if the Doctor got them? Or the scientists. My thoughts are slow. I need to get the port out. I can figure out a way to save them. I want Mama and Papa. And Mom. The door creaks open and I crouch lower, trying to remain unseen. They can’t find me. They can’t find me. I don’t want their gifts. That’s what they say. That they are giving me a gift. No more presents. They give and then they take. Pietro tells me I’ve been gone a long time. I don’t understand what he means.  
“Wanda?” I recognize that voice. I jump up from behind the lawnmower, grabbing MJ’s hand.  
“You’re okay,” I breathe a sigh of relief, “Is Peter okay? And Ned, Betty?”  
“We’re all fine, are you?” She looks down at the port. She then takes the sleeve of her white t-shirt, pressing it up against it. The shirt begins to become stained with red. I watch in confusion and morbid fascination. “What happened?”  
“They are at the party. They aren’t supposed to be here,” I explain, looking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t followed. I wish she had closed the door.  
“Who?”  
“They’re dead, they shouldn’t be here,” I bite my lip. “They are going to give you presents, you don’t want their presents.” I pull my hand away.  
“Okay, why don’t we call your mom? Have her come get you?”  
“No! They’ll hurt her; she can’t keep getting hurt because of me. It’s why she loves Yelena more. I don’t want her to worry. She said she always worries.”  
“MJ?”  
“We’re in here Peter, I found her.” Peter looks at my hand and I see it is scratched raw, covered in blood.  
“Did I do that? What happened? There was a port, IV, I,” I feel my bottom lip begin to tremble.  
“What did happen? She was fine,”  
“She smoked weed, I knew it was a bad idea, but she was pissed,”  
“I want to go home,” I pull my injured hand to my chest, “I want my Mama,” I want Mama and Papa, and Pietro, and Baba. No. They’re dead. Dead. Dead. “Mom. Not Mama,” I look at my friends, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would, I’m sorry,” It occurs to me for the first time that I am hiding in a stranger’s shed. And that they were never here. The men I have killed. My parents. None of them were here. Shame begins to overwhelm me. I broke down in public, in front of my friends.  
Peter tears his t-shirt, wrapping it around my hand. I pull away, embarrassed. With all the force I can muster, I look up at the both of them.  
“I’m sorry, that was a lot. I guess we know my powers and weed don’t mix,” I try for humor, but neither of them seem to go along with it. “I will call an Uber and head home. I’m sorry for ruining your night.” I tighten my ponytail and stand up straight.  
“Wanda, you are one of my best friends, I am not letting you go home by yourself,” He looks to MJ.  
“I’ll catch a ride with Betty and Ned, it’s no biggie.” Peter offers his arm and I take it reluctantly as he helps me out of the shed. Thankfully, no crowd has gathered.  
“No one else noticed,” He offers quietly as we head out to the street.  
“Why are you friends with me?” I ask, my voice flat.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I can’t be worth it. Worth the trouble.”   
“You introduced me to Tony, probably saving my life, and you are thoughtful, kind. Funny, nice. We all have baggage. Last week, there was someone getting mugged on the same corner that Uncle Ben and I, and I couldn’t go help. I called the police, but I watched this woman get mugged because I couldn’t bring myself to go back there.” He offers his arm as I feel myself sway, “You’ve survived a lot. I can’t begin to imagine what your life has been like.” He shifts from one foot to the other. “I texted Nat, she is waiting for you at home. I really think you should talk to her about how you’re feeling with Yelena.”  
“Why would you text her?” I snap, glaring at him.  
“Because you aren’t doing well, and she deserves a heads up.”  
“No! This is only proving my point. Why would you do this?”  
“Wanda,”  
“I’ll get my own ride home,”  
“That is a bad idea, you are drunk and,”  
“If anyone tries to attack me, I’ll kill them. What’s one more ghost?”  
“I don’t like the idea of you going off into the city on your own,”  
“I’m not going into the city.” I jump into the Uber and close the door before Peter can get in. I give the driver a hundred-dollar bill and he brings me to the cemetery.  
It is dead, no other visitors on Saturday at midnight. I wander up the path towards Pietro’s grave, but can’t find it. As I look around, I realize this is not the right graveyard. I don’t know where I am. Quickly, I hurry along the paths, trying to find my way out. Each step just seems to send me deeper into the maze of granite. The paranoia I have been feeling begins to lessen, replaced with an aching tiredness. The nausea returns, and I vomit into a nearby trash bin. I stumble forward, my head pounding, and rest at the base of a mausoleum.  
Tears begin to flow down my cheeks once more. I don’t know where I am. The people I have killed still flicker in and out of my line of sight, and I am still very drunk. Mama sits beside me on the steps, but that can’t be. I want Nat.  
A figure appears in front of me. I jump back, slamming against the marble. My head bounces off and I for a moment, I see stars. I feel my eyes begin to glow brightly as I prepare for a fight.  
“Wanda, it’s me,” The figure removes their baseball hat, showing their face and bright red hair.  
“Nat?”  
“Oh, love,” I fall into her arms, sobbing. “It’s okay. You’re safe, I’m here.”  
“Mama needs to leave,” I murmur into Nat’s shoulders.  
“You want me to go?” She begins to pull away.  
“No,” I hold onto her tighter. She looks down at me, tilting my chin up so I meet her eyes. “Oh, _Mama_ ,”   
“I’m sorry, I tried really hard, I promise.”  
“What are you talking about?” She begins to guide us out the cemetery, apparently knowing her way around in the dark.  
“You’re amazing,” I lean onto her, and then try to pull away, but instead I lose the rest of the jungle juice on her shoes. She rubs my back until I’m done, continuing to guide me along the path, “I was trying to be normal. I thought if I was normal, people wouldn’t worry about me so much.”  
“I would worry about you if you were the most boring person on the planet. It is what mothers do, Wanda. Maybe I worry a little extra, but that is only because the thought of losing you,” Her breath shutters, “I couldn’t bear it. You are my favorite person,”  
“Still?”  
“Always,” I look at her doubtfully. She opens up the passenger door and helps me into the Porsche. “It is you and me, remember?” I think of Yelena. Her real favorite person. She is probably just saying this so that I don’t freak out. Everyone always trying to pacify me. Walking around on eggshells. Destructive Wanda. Explosive Wanda. Angry. Violent. Unstable.  
I try to choke back another sob.  
“Wanda, I love you. Every part of you.” She places a hand on my cheek and then moves to pull the car out of the parking lot. “I know that this was a hard mission, especially for your first alone, and it had some unforeseen outcomes, but this self-destructive behavior from the past few days can’t continue. You need to talk to me when you are upset. I can’t read your mind. Please communicate with me. You are getting older and I am trying to give you more freedom, but you have to meet me halfway.”  
We pull into the garage, well past the valet’s hours, and wait in the elevator. Inside the apartment, the pocket doors into the den are pulled shut, but a light glows from underneath. Instead of letting me climb into bed, she places me down on the chair in my bathroom and takes out the first aid kit. My hand. I had forgotten about my hand. Thankfully, after being cleaned, the scratches don’t look so deep. Nat carefully wraps my hand in gauze, then hands me a cup of water and two Advil.  
She guides me to my bed, and I strip out of my clothes. My favorite pajamas had already been laid out on the bed; I don’t know when she had time to do that. There is also another glass of water and two more Advil. She helps me take off my leg and sock, and I change into my pajamas. I clumsily pour lotions onto the leg and then give up, lying down, exhausted.  
“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” I nod. She lies down beside me and takes out my ponytail, her fingers working gently through the snarls. As she works through my hair, she hums softly. I rest my head on her chest, feeling the gentle vibrations and the steady rise and fall.  
I want to tell her I worry about her too. That I worry constantly about whether or not she is okay, if I, or someone else, has inadvertently caused her pain. If she is sacrificing her own comfort and wellbeing for mine. But this would only cause her more worry, turning into a cycle. So, I say nothing.  
Instead, I close my eyes and fall asleep in her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this chapter! Writing Wanda when she is unstable is my favorite (evil, I know) because it poses a challenge for me as a writer and allows me to warp reality temporarily. Next chapter will be up this weekend- Nat's POV! And the next chapter of Volition should be up Friday! Thank you again!! :)
> 
> (Also, I know it is very rare for weed to cause hallucinations, it was Wanda’s powers, not the drug)


	28. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you enjoy this chapter!! Thank you for reading! As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!! Thank you!  
> Another super long chapter!! 5500 words!!

It is getting harder to hide from Yelena. To hide who I am now. This broken thing. The smiles and laughs are getting harder to fake. I try to remember who I was with her before, what I would say to her that made her want to be around me. I know we used to have two-sided conversations. That seems like a daunting task now.  
I had fallen asleep with Wanda in my arms. She slept through the night, a rarity and blessing. It is nearly eight when she wakes, trying to eke in a little more sleep as she nuzzles back under the covers, her warm breath on my arm. I have been up since six but can’t bring myself to leave her. Finding her in the cemetery last night, alone, shivering, and bloody, it scared me to no end. I can think of nothing worse than losing her. A large part of me wishes I could keep her hidden from the world and its horrors and cruelty. But she is going to go away to college soon, go off into the very place I try to protect her from. And it will be without me.  
She stretches and I look down. Her big blue eyes blink up and me and she reaches up to rub away sleep.  
“Good morning, love.”  
“You stayed all night?” Her voice is thick with grogginess.  
“Of course,” I brush her hair away from her face, “How are you feeling?”  
“Fine, just tired,” Her eyes catch on her hand.  
“We need to talk about last night,”  
“I’m sorry for drinking and trying weed,”  
“That isn’t what I am talking about. I understand you wanting to experiment, even if I don’t condone it. But I mean running off into the city alone at night. You could have gotten seriously injured. And I told you to call me if you needed to. Hearing from Peter that you ran off was terrifying.”  
“I’m sorry,” She shrinks down, her lower lip pouting, concealing the scar.  
“I know, Little Witch” I look at her tearful eyes, for some reason, they are filled with fear. “Come on, let’s make pancakes,”  
“I’m not being punished?”  
“Did you learn your lesson?” I ask, climbing out of her bed.  
“I can always call you, I should always. And don’t be stupid.”  
“More like think before you act, but yes,” She takes the crutches I have presented her and follows me into the kitchen.  
Wanda sits on the counter next to the stove, watching me pour the batter onto the frying pan. She holds a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, and she lets out a small sigh of contentment as she takes a sip. I wish we could stay frozen in this moment forever.  
“Good morning,” I turn and see Yelena pad into the kitchen. Her long blonde hair is piled onto her head in a messy bun, and she sports newly purchased pajamas that came in the mail yesterday. She had been amazed by how online shopping had progressed, spending a small fortune on Anthropologie. “You can actually cook now?” I roll my eyes and refocus my attention on the pan. Wanda had flipped the pancakes with her powers, an impressive show of control. Though I think complimenting her on it, but in front of Yelena it would only embarrass her.  
My sister turns on the Keurig and waits for her coffee. She looks over at Wanda briefly, still cautious of my daughter. I had been trying to get her to know Wanda over the past few days, but the latter had wanted alone time. Yelena is yet to google Wanda, for which I am grateful. Though I have a feeling my time is waning. It won’t be long before Yelena learns of her past.  
“Mom,” Wanda says quietly, squeezing my free hand. Lena has moved from the coffee maker and over to the island. I see the batter has begun to bubble and flip the second round of pancakes. She blinks at me but says nothing else. The pile begins to grow on the plate under the warming light, and Wanda hops off the counter. I cringe as she does so, imagining the fall if she loses her balance. But, she remains steady and heads out of the kitchen.  
“Your girl, she okay?” Yelena asks, downing her coffee and putting the mug in the dishwasher.  
“Yes, thank you. I’m sorry for ending the night short.” Ending the night before Peter called about Wanda. Only making it a few hours before it all started to be too much. When we left the bowling and ax throwing place for a club. A club similar to the one we had gone to during her two-week stint with me in D.C. Except there was a smoke machine. After five minutes, I ran outside. I lied and told her Steve needed me to check on something for the Avengers. She followed me home and watched as I went on my computer, and then into Wanda’s room, laying out her favorite pajamas and Advil that she would likely need for her hangover in the morning.  
Wanda comes back in, now sporting her leg, and goes over to the fridge, pulling out maple syrup and whipped cream.  
“I help?” Yelena offers, getting up from her seat. “You have strawberries, for pancakes?” She asks me, “Wanda’s favorite, da?” I nod and she goes into the fridge as well, pulling out the fresh berries. She begins to cut them quickly, until far too many sit in a bowl. I begin to disperse the pancakes amongst three plates, and Wanda comes to grab them, Yelena already in the dining room. The fresh squeezed orange juice that I bought yesterday sits beside the tiramisu, untouched. But I say nothing, carrying out the container with three glasses.  
Yelena has taken care not to take Wanda’s seat, instead sitting on my other side. She watches me as I begin to eat, and her comment about me being too thin permeates my thoughts.  
“Tasha says you contained bomb with your mind. Save million people.” She breaks the silence. Wanda looks up from her plate, seeming surprised that she is being addressed. She blushes a deep crimson and bobs her head up and down.  
“It was nothing,”  
“Nothing? Wanda, you were sixteen. It is amazing,” I praise. She looks to me briefly, her eyes glowing, not red but with warmth. “Tony offered to give us a ride to the farm tomorrow, so we don’t have to fly commercial.”  
“Why is he heading out there?” Wanda asks.  
“He and Pepper have a board meeting in California. You can imagine how thrilled Tony is.” I try to ignore the tension that is rippling throughout the room. “I was thinking we could head up to the compound tonight, they invited us to dinner at the cabin as well.” I look over at Wanda, “Of course, we don’t have to go. We can have dinner here,”  
“No. I’d like to go.” Wanda goes back to her pancakes. Breakfast is a much quieter affair than usual. I begin to clear the plates and Wanda goes to her room to shower. I hear Yelena come up behind me.  
“Yes?”  
“Still can’t sneak up on you.”  
“Sometimes Steve can, he’s the only one.”  
“Captain America, your boyfriend.”  
“He is not my boyfriend,” I turn around, shutting off the water.  
“Why?”  
“Because,” I huff.  
“Because your ex is doctor? Don’t want to trade scrubs for uniform? I think uniform sexy,” She wiggles her eyebrows. I groan.  
“You don’t know the first thing about Bruce, or Steve.” I go back to the dishes.  
“Then tell me, Tasha. I been talking for three days. And I don’t have ten years to share,” She huffs, leaning against the cabinets. “You not talk a lot before. You talk less now.”  
“It has nothing to do with Bruce.” I finish drying off the frying pan. “Please, Lena.”  
“Is sex bad?”  
“Yelena!” I warn.  
“What? I understand. He not look like he be bad, but maybe doctor is packing.”  
“I, um,”  
“Natasha, you not try either? You try milk before you buy cow!”  
“You are very funny. I am going to get changed and we can pack our bags,” I go to brush past her, and she grabs my arm. I grip hers in turn, pinning it behind her back.  
“Okay, okay, I stop.” I release her and the playful glint that is normally in her eyes is gone. “You share life eventually?” She asks. It occurs to me now, this was her way of trying to say she wants to know the people I have chosen to surround myself with. I give a stiff nod.  
“We’ll head out at one.” I go for a run for the first time in what feels like months. Not just on the treadmill, but out in the city. The streets are lined with slush, and I am aware that there are pictures being snapped of me, but I can’t care. I run until my lungs are screaming and I am drenched in sweat. Forty miles in three hours. I will have to challenge Steve to a race soon.  
Back at the apartment, I am greeted by Wanda who is taking her clothes out of the dryer. Her auburn hair hangs around her face.  
“When I am getting out of the shower, I’m doing that hair,” I scold lightly. She brightens at the offer.  
After braiding back Wanda’s hair, the front door opens with Yelena’s return. She carries a Magnolia Bakery pastry bag and unzips her coat.  
“We not show up at someone’s house without bring something. Is rude.” I raise an eyebrow at my sister, who frequently acts more like a feral cat than a domesticated one. “I google dinner party. We bring wine too.” She goes over to the liquor cabinet. She looks determined, and I cannot help but be touched by her effort.  
We take the elevator directly to the garage and walk over to our parking area. I am trying to minimize Yelena’s exposure to the world, especially after last night when people started asking questions.  
“Tasha, you got new car?” I stumble, surprised by the question, and Wanda crashes into me. “Your Widow Mobile. You got new one.” She nods to my Porsche. “You love car. Thought you’d keep forever.” I feel rooted in place. I can’t break in front of her. I can’t. I have to be the old me. Old me who wasn’t traumatized by the most trivial things. Old me who could go out to clubs, have a conversation, and be present. I dig my nails into my palms, grounding myself.  
“People get new cars,” Wanda snaps. I feel dazed as I pop the trunk to the SUV. She climbs into the back seat without protest, normally hating the spot. I unfurl my fists and wipe the blood on my dark jeans, hoping the stains don’t show.  
We arrive at the compound around three, having hit some weekend traffic as people head to the mountains to ski. Wanda has been unusually quiet, and I find myself missing her chatter. Even the mundane observances. Normally, when we are stuck in traffic, we play a game where she has to figure out as much as she can about a person based on their car and bumper stickers. I secretly use it as training for her to get better at observing people, but she doesn’t need to know that.  
Steve is walking out of the hanger as we pull up. He waves his hand in greeting, throwing a dirty rag over his grease stained t-shirt. He likely spent the last few hours working on his bike.  
“Welcome back,” He follows the car into the hanger, grabbing our bags.  
“You want to watch Tasha and I spar?” Yelena asks him, stretching. I look over at her. She had not mentioned this plan to me. “I want to see if I still good. You and Tasha decide who join Avengers, right?”  
“You want to join the team?” My heart lifts at the prospect of working with my sister.  
“On emergency basis,” she says, “Not everyday like you. Need to be able to go.”  
“Go?” Steve looks over at her, dropping the bags into my room.  
“Yelena doesn’t do well staying in one place for very long.”  
“I vagabond,” Yelena shrugs. “You watch us spar.” We begin to head towards the gym, and Yelena turns around, grabbing Wanda’s hand, dragging the girl, “You come too.”  
Steve and Wanda head up to the observation bridge, while Yelena and I change into sparring gear. Up until now, the locker room had only been for me and Wanda, and occasionally Maria. I duck behind a locker door to change.  
“What you doing?” Yelena asks, one eyebrow raised.  
“Changing. I’m wearing jeans and you wanted to spar,”  
“I mean hiding behind door. You not modest now? Or you trying to hide weapons?” I look down at my arms and legs, still covered in scars. They are just beginning to fade, but I don’t want to worry Yelena with them. She shouldn’t have to worry about me. It is my job, as her older sister, to look after her. Too many people worry about me. It isn’t right. “Tasha?”  
“We are not sparring with weapons before a dinner party,” I scold. She puts her hands up in defeat, and I toss her a pair of leggings and a workout top.  
We head out to the mats and stretch. Yelena’s chatter has stopped as she concentrates, her brow furrowed.  
“We are not fighting to hurt each other,” I remind her, “I’d like to see you exercise restraint.”  
“I know, Tasha. This isn’t Red Room.” She jumps up from the mat. I set the timer for ten minutes and we begin to circle each other.  
Yelena, being as impatient as she is, darts forward. I sidestep her quickly, but her foot catches on my ankle. I tumble away, landing in a crouch. Her eyes gleam. She slowly stalks forward. That is how she fights, like a viper. She is in and out before the person can react. Calling her a Black Widow is not quite right, she does not lure in her target. I however, trap people in a web. She lunges once more and I catch her by her arms, flipping her upside down. She hooks onto me and we end up somersaulting together.  
“Tasha, you are playing with me,”  
“Maybe,” I tease. It is the first genuine smile I have felt grace my face in days. Her lips draw into a thin line and she darts forward. She is going to try and use the move I invented against me. She hurdles towards my shoulders and I drop to the floor, causing her to skid on the blue plastic. When she turns around, she is furious, and getting frustrated. I bounce lightly on the balls of my feet, and this time run at her. I jab at her stomach and she lets out a slight groan before swinging at my jaw. I block the fist easily with my forearm. With a spinning kick, her feet are swept out from under her. Before she can get up, I turn her onto her back and pin her. She tries to pull away, to get free, but my foot rests on her neck, while the rest of her remains immobilized. The timer goes off and I release her.  
“Your punch was sloppy,” I scold, pulling her up.  
“Your first somersault wasn’t tight.” She replies in turn.  
“Next time, you fight one of them,” I nod to our two observers, who hop down from the observation bridge. Steve lands nimbly, and Yelena gasps as Wanda flies down.  
“You fly too?” Wanda ducks her head, but has a small, pleased smile.   
“That was great, Yelena,” Steve says sincerely.  
“Was okay. Tasha make me look bad, well she make everyone look bad.”  
“Trust me, we know.” He gives me one of his half smiles.  
Neither of us broke a sweat during the quick sparring session, and we head out for me to show her the trails, which I had neglected to show her on our initial tour.  
She lights up at the sight of the trees. Scaling treetops had been one of her favorite trainings as a child. It is one of the few things she can easily best me in. She climbs up a nearby pine quickly, and I watch as she jumps between the branches, until she is nearly a hundred yards ahead.  
“Natasha,” Yelena asks as we walk the trails, she has since come back down to earth, “Wanda, how she get powers?” I hold back a sigh. At least she is asking me, rather than googling.  
“She was experimented on when she was younger, her and her twin brother. They’re parents had been killed and they were living in the streets.”  
“I ask you how you met, you deflect.”  
“You wouldn’t like the answer.”  
“I find out eventually. You, Clint, Google.”  
“She was just a kid,” Yelena tilts her head, and I can feel her picking me apart. There is a flash of the ballet dancers. Again. Cold metal table. Mouthless girls. Can’t speak up. The abuse, silenced. Marble. Again. Sloppy. The ceremony is necessary.  
I am sitting on the ground. Yelena is crouched in front of me, her eyebrows knit together. Shit, I lost it. I didn’t mean to disappear.  
“Natasha,”  
“Let’s get inside. It is getting late and we will have to head over to Tony’s soon.  
“Nat,” Not Tasha, Nat. Why is she calling me Nat?  
“I will send you her _60 Minutes_ interview, okay? Just remember that she is my kid, and I love her. Despite everything, she is my favorite person. If you want to be a part of my life, you have to accept her.”  
“She hurt you.”  
“Yes.”  
“And you love her anyway.”  
“More than anyone else.” Yelena is quiet for a moment.  
“Okay,”  
“Okay?”  
“She part of your life, she part of mine. I protect her now.” Yelena states seriously. I nudge her shoulder and we continue to make our way through the trails.

* * *

When we arrive back at the main building, I find Wanda and Steve engaged in an intense game of chess. They seem to be evenly matched; the poor master of battle strategy is losing to my teenager. I come around and kiss the top of her head. She looks up at me, smiling, before redirecting her attention to the board, thinking of where to move her bishop.  
“Yelena and I are going to change and then we can drive over to Tony’s,” I tell the pair, “So finish up you’re game,”  
“We’d already be done if Steve would let me use my powers, he says its cheating.”  
“It is cheating,” I agree. Wanda huffs dramatically, with a smirk.  
The drive over to Tony and Pepper’s is quick, taking the private service road the stretched between the two properties, nearly brushing the shoreline.  
It is not my first time here, but it is Wanda’s. She looks around the property as she hops out of the car. There are rocking chairs on the porch overlooking the lake, with thick wool blankets.  
“Its so un-Tony,” She looks back at me.  
“But it is very Pep,” Tony opens up the door, “Come on inside, its freezing.”  
There is a quick introduction of Pepper to Yelena, and then Wanda immediately heads to the kitchen to help the mother-to-be, as she is the only other person here with any skill in the kitchen. An ancient laptop has been setup at the dining table.  
“What do you have planned, Stark?”  
“Natasha, I am offended that you’d think I’d have anything planned.”  
“Let’s do it,” Yelena nods enthusiastically.  
“Lena!” Tony guides her over to the table, and she sits down in front of the laptop.  
“It seems only fair, that before you have a hack-off with me, that I give you a trial run.” She scoffs.  
“You know how Tasha good with languages and guns? This mine,”  
“Technology has changed a lot since 2008.”  
“Okay. So, you set me up on computer older than that guy?” She waves to Steve whose mouth opens and closes, and then looks to me. I nudge him lightly.  
“I figured you’d be more comfortable. And it will teach you not to boast,” Oh God, these two are going to be the death of me. “We’ll stop the clock during dinner, don’t worry.”  
“What am I hacking?” Yelena stretches, “CIA database? Internet Hub? China Internet?”  
“Stark Industries,” My sister waves us off and gets started, while we head into the kitchen. A charcuterie board is on the counter and Pepper is tossing roasted potatoes in butter.  
“Dinner will be in about twenty minutes,” She promises.  
“Have you found out the gender yet?” I ask.  
“Oh! I can’t believe Tony didn’t tell you,” Pepper lights up. “It’s a girl, we are naming her Morgan.”  
“Congratulations, I am so happy for you guys,” Tony hands me a glass of wine. Pepper begins to talk about nursery plans, with an even more excited Tony, when Yelena strolls in.  
“You give up already?”  
Yelena smiles and holds up three fingers, then two, and finally one. Tony’s phone starts to ring.  
“Speakerphone, Ironman,” Tony answers.  
“Boss, all the lights in the LA office,” Happy gasps, out of breath.  
“What about them?” Tony looks to Yelena with apprehension.   
“From the street, they look like an hourglass,” Yelena blows him a kiss, sitting down at the counter. “And the sprinklers have gone off in your office.”  
“Thanks, Happy. I’ll have Friday shut it down.”  
“Boss, aren’t you worried? It could be,”  
“Just Nat’s annoying little sister. Nothing to worry about. Have a good night.” He ends the call. “You need to work for me.”  
“I work for no one but Tasha.”  
“I will pay you more than you could imagine.”  
“Why do I need money?” Yelena looks over to me, “Get a load of this guy,” The American expression sounds so foreign in her mouth, it even gets a laugh out of Wanda.  
“How did you do it?”  
“I best in Widow Program. Mean best in world. Was made for this.” Yelena shrugs nonchalantly. Tony looks at her with the same respect I have only seen him show Bruce.  
We sit down at the dining table with the roast and potatoes. Tony continues to pepper Yelena with questions about how she broke in so fast while the rest of us tire of the topic. Thankfully, the two techies seem to notice.  
“What Avengers’ missions like?”  
“We fight robots, aliens, Nazis, terrorist organizations,” Tony lists off on his fingers, “Sometimes Nat runs smaller operations for Fury.”  
“Fury try to recruit me. Thought we all do honeypot like Tasha.” Steve cuts through his plate.  
“Nat has only ever had one honeypot for the Avengers, and we will never do it again.” His voice is low. Yelena looks around the table as no one will meet her eyes.  
“Sorry, I say something bad,”  
“You’re fine, Lena. I just don’t do those very often anymore. If I am going undercover it is for espionage,” My glass of water shakes in my hand.  
“So, can I call you Lena?” Tony asks, changing the subject.  
“Only if you want fork in eye,” She replies hotly. But she then turns her attention back to me, meeting my eyes. I want to go.  
“ _Are you okay?”_ Wanda’s voice echoes in my head. I grab her hand and squeeze. After dinner, Pepper serves the banana pudding the Yelena brought. I want to leave. Everyone else has moved past Yelena’s comment. But all I can think about is my failure. I was made for honeypots. That is my purpose, and I can’t do them anymore. Yelena is able to hack easily, after being held prisoner for ten years. Her training held up. I broke. Perhaps it was never the Red Room that was the problem, it was me. I probably would be more useful to the team if I did honeypots. SHIELD’s whore, that is what Rumlow used to call me. But I was the best agent. I got the most results. How many times could the Avengers have avoided going in hot if I could just do my job? Do what I was made for.  
I continue to nod and smile at all the right moments, though the conversation doesn’t really stick. Everything floats by, and I feel like I am crumbling. I sit in the passenger seat of the car, with Wanda and Yelena in the back.  
“Nat,”  
“What movie do you all want to watch tonight?” I interrupt Steve before he can say anything regarding either of our reactions at dinner.  
By the time _Friends with Benefits_ ends, it is nearly eleven. Wanda is nodding off, and Yelena is yawning.  
After tucking Wanda in, I head down to the training room. I throw knives until well past one. I check on my daughter once more, rousing her from a nightmare and getting her back to sleep, before heading to my room. Yelena is lying on my bed, on her phone. She is scrolling, her eyes darting across the screen.  
“Tasha, I need to talk to you,” Yelena puts down her phone and sits up, crisscrossing her legs.  
“If Tony said something,” I begin to joke.  
“Stop.” She frowns.  
“I am going to take a shower, if this can wait until morning,”  
“Stop it Tasha,” She gets up from the bed, “You forcing yourself to be happy.”  
“I am happy you’re here, that you’re alive. Yelena, you have to know that”  
“Of course I know. I am wonderful. But you forcing self to be chipper. Tasha, you lot of things. Optimist not one.”  
“Please,”  
“No.”  
“I am trying to be the sister you remember,” I argue quietly. But I have no fight in me. I’m tired.  
“I don’t want her,” Yelena sniffs, crossing her arms, “I want real you. One that everyone loves. Not fake old version. I want superhero Black Widow, mom, friend.”  
“You won’t like her,” My voice is barely a whisper, but it cracks.  
“Liar.”  
“Yelena, I’m not whole. My brain, it isn’t right. I’m not right. I am broken.”  
“So?” She tilts her head. She does not argue with me, tell me I’m not. “Your daughter broken.” She begins, my jaw clicks, “Clint and Stark too. I see. They less than?”  
“They’re not,”  
“I less than, Tasha? I have serum too. I broken?”  
“No, of course not. Not even close.”  
“Then stop pretending and treating me like a mark,” she snaps. I look away. That is exactly what I have been doing. I have been giving Yelena who I thought she wanted. “I figure out last night in club. I deserve to know real you. We sisters, da? You know me. All parts of me. Bad parts. I want to know you. Is fair.”  
“Lena,”  
“You take shower now. I going to sleep. I want real you. Real you is good.”  
“You don’t know,”  
“No. I know. I love you,” She is bordering on furious, “I love you and you don’t get to decide. Tasha you never understand.” Her mouth twists and she steps forward. She carefully wraps her arms around me, and then lets go a second later, pulling away, as though unsure of her action. “Goodnight, Natasha.”  
I sit on the floor of the shower, as the steaming water runs down my spine. The air smells of lavender and eucalyptus. I close my eyes, staying there until the water runs cold. After toweling off, I head back into my room. Yelena is sound asleep, and despite our conversation just before, I feel a note of pride. It is because of me that she can do that. Just sleep. I change into pajama pants and one of Steve’s old t-shirts before crawling into my side of the bed. My fingers trace the spidered scars on my arms. Like a web. Each time as I begin to drift off to sleep, I am jolted awake. I will not be sleeping tonight. There is only one other person here who is likely awake. I slip out of the room, careful not to wake Yelena as the door clicks shut behind me. The hall is dark, and the tile floor is cool against my bare feet.  
I knock.  
There is some shuffling on the other side, and the door pulls open. Steve stands bleary eyed in his pajamas, yawning.  
“Oh God, I’m sorry. I woke you up,” I back away from the door, feeling stupid. Of course he sleeps now. It has been years. It’s me who can’t move on.  
“Nat,”   
“I didn’t mean to wake you,”  
“It is fine, really,” He opens up the door wider, “Do you want to come in?” I rock back on my heals, “Please?” I step inside.  
His space is spartan and impersonal, reminding me of military barracks. There are only a few personal items. The photo of him and his mom. A drawing of the team getting shawarma, and a picture of the two of us just after the Chitauri attack. We had gone to Coney Island for the day.  
“What’s going on?”  
“I couldn’t sleep,” I look down at my hands, “And I didn’t want to be alone.” I sit down on the undisturbed corner of his bed.  
He heads over to his kitchenette, located where my bookshelves are. Other than that, the rooms mirror each other. He microwaves a mug of water and takes out a teabag from a cabinet. I try to think as to why he would have tea in his room, as he doesn’t drink it.  
“I will never forgive myself, Nat.”  
“For what?” He hands me a steaming mug.  
“For sending you on that honeypot. You need to know; I am so sorry. I wish I could go back and undo it. Stop myself from sending you into that hotel room.”  
“I don’t blame you,” I take a sip of the comforting chamomile.  
“You should,”  
“No, never. You didn’t know.” I lean back on his headboard with my tea. “I can’t blame you for what they made me to be.” He sits down beside me. “But you have finally met my sister.”  
“She isn’t what I expected,”   
“No, she’s not. She is still human,”  
“Don’t say that,”  
“I gave up my humanity for her. To keep her spirit intact. It seemed wrong to let her light go out. So, I gave myself to the Red Room. All of me. Until there was nothing left.” I run my finger along the ridge of the cup. “I don’t regret it, not for a second. Seeing her, being able to be this, to finally be able to find a life, it was worth it.” I set the empty mug to the side. “But sometimes I wonder what I would be like if I hadn’t.”  
“I know exactly who you would be,” he looks over at the picture of the two of us, “You’d be exactly who you are now. The Red Room didn’t destroy you, Natasha. You held onto every piece of you.”  
“I don’t feel like other people! I have holes in my head, and sometimes, hours will just be gone, I don’t know what happens, and I can’t,”  
“Nat,” he pulls the blankets up around me, and I can feel heat radiating off of him like a furnace. “That isn’t who you are,” He shakes his head. “You are brave, kind, loyal, giving, the smartest person I have ever met,” We lie down, facing each other.  
“But I am violent and insensitive,”  
“You are neither of those things. You are always merciful, and you are the most empathetic person I know. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I thought there had never been a more remarkable person.”  
“I was horrible,”  
“No, we were both in pain, but we had each other. There is no one else I would have wanted with me when I came out of the ice. Nat, you will always have me, forever.” I move a little closer, and I feel the scars on my arm brush against his smooth skin. “You said once that you aren’t all things to all people, all the time. But you’re wrong. To me, you’re always you. I just see you, Nat.” He clicks off his bedside light, sending the room into a comforting darkness. I lie next to him, and find the courage as his breaths even out, as he drifts off to sleep, to whisper into the night,  
“I adore you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Next chapter is when everything between Yelena and Wanda will come to head, I hope to have it out by Thursday, but don't hold me to it lol  
> Thank you!!


	29. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in posting, I worked overtime every night this week and was too tired to write. You know the Friends theme song? I feel like that is my life right now lol   
> Any who, I have cemented the next story line that will begin in a few chapters, we aren't quite done with Yelena's arrival, and I will be providing the much anticipated boot camp chapter.   
> Thank you all for your comments on the last chapter, I get so excited when I see a new one in my inbox!   
> I hope you are all staying healthy, safe, and enjoying the last few weeks of summer (or winter if you're in the southern hemisphere)   
> Sorry if this chapter is a bit dialogue heavy, I was feeling chatty. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!!

I wake up with a body wrapped around mine, strong and warm. My mind blanks for a moment. Oh my God. I scramble to get out of the bed, untangling myself from the sheets and his arms.   
“Nat?” He blinks sleepily, looking up at me. “What time is it?”  
“I fell asleep in here, I’m sorry. I think it must be close to seven,” I look at his alarm clock, confirming my suspicions. Who uses an alarm clock anymore?   
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m pretty sure I feel asleep first anyway,” I think of the merciless teasing I will receive if either Wanda or Yelena find out where I slept.   
“I’m really sorry I forced myself in here last night,” I back up towards the door, “Really sorry,” I turn and bolt. Stupid Natasha, stupid. Setting myself up for nothing but hurt. I hide for a while in the last place anyone would think to look for me, my office.   
Tony had designed it in what he thought I would like. It is black and chrome. There are weapons framed on the walls, and a stiff leather couch. It is sleek and modern, and very Black Widow, but not very Natasha. I sit at my desk, thankful that the one thing he got right was putting a coffee maker in here. There is a prodding in my mind, like someone gently poking me. Wanda. She is in my head without knowing where I am, impressive if I wasn’t so desperate to be alone and wallow in my own shame and self-pity.   
There is a knock at the door, and it cracks open. Wanda pokes her head in, looking around. She smiles when she sees me sitting behind my desk.   
“Hi,” she walks in, “I have to say this office isn’t very you,” She pulls out one of the balls on the Newton’s cradle. “Steve is making crepes,”  
“Thank you.” I make no move to get up from the desk.  
“What are you doing in here?”   
“Just trying to get some work done before we go,” I lie.  
“Why are you working in here? You usually work in your room,” She frowns, running her finger along the sharp edge of my desk.   
“Yelena is staying in my room, she can be distracting,”  
“Oh,” Wanda’s shoulders slump.   
“Is everything okay?” I look at her carefully, trying to figure out what could be bothering her. “You know I’m not mad at you for the other night, right?”  
“Yes, of course,” She forces herself to stand up straight, “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.” I don’t believe her, but am reluctant to push the topic, “I’ll make sure Steve saves you a plate.”   
Her footsteps echo down the hall. With a sigh, I get up from the desk and wash the mug in the bathroom sink before heading back out, making my way towards the living quarters. As I walk through the halls, I think of how incredibly lonely Steve must be here. The compound is never truly empty. There is a research building next door filled with engineers, doctors, and scientists, but the Avengers’ area seems almost ghostly. I push Steve out of my thoughts, thinking only of Ivan’s words, _You know better than to think that something like you should or could be loved._ It had been framed as a compliment, now all I hear is scorn.  
Yelena is the only one is the kitchen when I arrive, neither Steve nor Wanda in sight. She gives me a nod from behind a comically large mug of coffee.   
“Where are they?”  
“Good morning to you too, Big Sister. Sleep good?”  
“It is sleep _well_ , Lena.” I scold, picking up the plate of crepes from under the warmer.   
“Your partner seemed upset making crepes. You can taste it in them. What you do?”   
“Why would you assume I did something?”  
“Just hunch.” She puts down her mug.   
“And where is Wanda?”   
“What time are we leaving?” She appears with her duffel, answering my question.   
“As soon as I get dressed,” I finish off my breakfast, putting the plates in the dishwasher.   
We head out to the runway, and my offer to help Wanda carry her beg is swiftly rejected. She has been off all morning, and I can’t figure out what is bothering her. Tony and Pepper are waiting at the plane, and Pepper waves when she sees us.   
“Rogers’s not going to see you off?” Tony asks as we board the jet.   
“He is busy.” I take my seat and Wanda sits beside Pepper instead. Yelena plops down next to me, but I am too concerned as to why Wanda chose to sit on the opposite side of the plane rather than her usual spot. What did I do?   
“This is your Captain speaking,” Tony begins over the intercom, piloting his own plane as Happy is at a security convention, “Not that Captain,” He laughs at his own joke, and I can see Pepper roll her eyes as she looks at Wanda. The girl smiles and pulls out her English book for the next two weeks- _The Count of Monte Cristo_.   
“Tasha,” Yelena elbows me, I look over and see her streaming a video on her phone, “Is your senate hearing. Watch with me.”   
“So, if you want to arrest me, arrest me. You’ll know where to find me,” I watch the video, seeing myself _mouthing off_ to the people on Capitol Hill.   
“Oh Tasha! You badass! You show those old white men!” Yelena cheers, watching as I strut out of the room. I hear Pepper laugh from her seat at Yelena’s outburst, Wanda hasn’t looked up from her book. “Arrest me! Jesus, Tasha,” She laughs, leaning back in her seat. “I miss too much, you hero.” She jabs me playfully in the ribs. A small smile ekes its way out. Yelena begins to interrogate me about the Chitauri invasion, which she seems to have read up on last night.   
“And you stop portal, I read report. You ride alien. What is like?” Eventually, Yelena stops asking questions, and switches back to trying to catch up on the past decade.   
The plane lands on the farm, in the runway hidden within the cornfields. Wanda slides her leg back on, taking off the compression sock that prevented swelling, and climbs out of the plane.   
“Aren’t you coming in to say hi?” She asks the couple, shouldering her bag.   
“We are going to be late for our meeting,” Pepper explains.  
“Actually, Pep says we shouldn’t intrude on this little family reunion,” Tony interrupts. “You ladies have fun,”  
I thank them for the ride, and we begin to make our way towards the farmhouse. The runway is a bit farther away than the landing spot for the quinjet, but not by much. Clint had shoveled out the path for us, and Wanda pulls her corduroy coat tighter.  
“One of Clint’s kids, Lila, has been really sick. She is starting to get better, but just a warning, okay?” Yelena nods. We emerge into the backyard. Clint is waiting, greeting us with a big smile.   
“Hey, welcome to the farm,”   
“You way too American,”   
“And you’re too Russian,” He slings an arm around Wanda and takes her bag. “Come on, the kids are excited to see you guys.”   
We step through the backdoor and am met by a welcoming scene. There are mugs of hot cocoa waiting, and Laura is taking fresh cinnamon rolls out of the oven. Jack Johnson plays in the background. The kids stand cautiously to the side, looking at us, or more particularly, the newcomer.   
“Is that Cooper?” Yelena breathes, looking at the oldest of the Barton children. Lila steps forward, with Lucky the dog practically pressed up against her.   
“Auntie Lena?” She signs, spelling out her name. Yelena looks to me, suddenly desperate and serious.   
“She asked if you are Auntie Lena,” I interpret, signing and speaking. A kind, gentle smile, one I haven’t seen since she was with Cooper on Christmas all those years ago, blooms.   
“Yes, Auntie Lena,” She agrees.   
“I knew you when I was a baby,” Cooper inspects her. We all hover awkwardly in the entryway, everyone unsure.   
“Come and sit down, warm up. It is freezing out there,” Laura beckons. Lila pulls Wanda to sit next to her and the later brings over two cups of hot cocoa.   
“You have lovely home, Laura.” Yelena compliments.   
“Thank you, Yelena. It is good to see you again. You’ve been missed.” Laura wipes her hands on her apron. “You already know Cooper, and that is Lila, then we have Nate, and our newest addition, Nicole.” She nods to the sleeping infant in the playpen.   
“Congratulations,” Yelena, normally so chatty, seems at a loss for words.   
“Is it true that you knew Auntie Nat when she little?” Cooper asks.   
“Auntie Nat still little,” Yelena jokes, making a pinching gesture with her hand. Cooper smirks, “But da, I met Tasha when she five. March 1989. I just turn four.”   
“So, you’re like Auntie Nat?” Cooper asks carefully. I internally cringe at his question. But Yelena answers with the charismatic wit I only possess on missions,  
“Nobody like your Auntie Nat.”   
After the hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls, the kids bring Wanda down to their playroom in the basement.   
“It really is nice to see you again, Yelena.” Laura places a hand on the younger widow’s shoulder.   
“Cooper got big.” Yelena looks wistfully at the hall the kids disappeared down.   
“He still has your bear,” Clint informs her, “He calls it B. Don’t tell him I told you, but he still sleeps with it every night.” Yelena’s face brightens.   
“Yeah? Good. I make impact.” My heart breaks for her.   
“I’ll have Nat show you to the guest room,” Clint looks to me, and I wonder what I just missed.   
“Come on Lena, I’ll give you the tour.” I show her around the first floor and then we bring our bags upstairs. We end the in my room and Yelena sits down on the bed.   
“Clint have nice life.” She touches the worn quilt at the base of the mattress. “You have family.”   
“You’re my family too Yelena,”   
“Tasha, I need to ask you for something.” She looks nervous, and I wonder now if I really have missed something. If both her and Wanda are mad at me. Maybe they talked to Steve. I haven’t heard from him. Of course, why would I? Not only did I invade his space, but I sprinted out in the morning without even a thank you. “Tasha,” Yelena speaks, louder, jarring me from my thoughts. I blink, nodding.   
“Sorry, yes. Anything,” I force myself to be present.   
“I give access to Avengers’ files. I want your permission before reading your file.” She stands up, “If you not want me to, I won’t read.”   
“No, you can.” Please don’t. “It isn’t a problem, Lena.”   
“Okay, good. I catching up.” She gives me a toothy grin. “You know they make doll of you? How you go undercover?”  
“It is a lot more difficult; I assure you.”   
“Now I join team, you not worry more, right? Team type of insurance. I overhear Steve on phone with Tony. They get me papers. You don’t have to worry.”   
“Is that why you joined the team?” Did she feel like we blackmailed her?   
“No, Tasha. Relax. You more wound tighter than Fury. I read he is dead. That man _not_ dead.”   
“No, he is not dead. I talked to him a few days ago. He looks forward to seeing you at our quarterly meeting.”   
“You not have to protect me anymore.”   
“I’ll always protect you, Little Sister,” I playfully tug her braid. “I’m going to check in with Wanda, I will see you later. Go play darts with Clint or something.”   
I find Wanda sitting at a kid sized table and chairs, while Lila attempts to apply makeup on her. Her face is screwed up in concentration as she uses one hand to steady the other. Cooper and Nate are rolling a ball back and forth, their attention half on the cartoon playing on the TV. As I get closer, I see Wanda has two foil heart stickers on her cheeks, accompanying bright pink blush.   
“Hi Nat,”   
“Hey, you look pretty,” I compliment her and sign, Lila smiles.   
“You next Auntie Nat?”   
“How could I say no?” Wanda pinches her lips, holding back laughter as Lila applies blue eye shadow to match the cloud stickers that now adorn my face. The amount of time she has spent on both of us is both admirable and torturous. This includes a rather long break to watch ‘just a second’ of an episode of SpongeBob.  
“Done!” She admires her handywork and holds up a mirror.   
“That is something, Li.” She laughs, her voice ringing out. Cooper looks over quickly, but away again before his sister can notice. I wonder how often it is that they hear her now.   
“You can go wash it off. Its okay,” She pats my hand, yawning. I help her up the stairs and Laura fails to contain her giggles at our appearance.   
“Yes, yes. We look very funny,” I roll my eyes good-naturedly. Laura takes her daughter upstairs to rest, and I bring mine to the downstairs bath to wash off the costume makeup.   
“Lila is doing better.” Wanda comments, as she peels off the stickers.   
“Laura and Clint were terrified. They said up until Christmas, Lila would barely react to anyone.” I pass her a wet paper towel.  
“She is tough, she’ll be okay.” Wanda rubs off the makeup, revealing her fresh babyface. I do not miss the dark makeup she used to hide her age.   
“Are you okay?” I ask as I drop our soiled towels into the trash. “I just want to check in,”  
“I’m good,” she lies.   
“If you weren’t, you can tell me. I just worry about you. Since you came back from the mission,”  
“Nope. I’m good.” She pulls her hair up into a ponytail. “I’m going to see if Laura needs help in the kitchen with dinner.” She heads out of the bathroom.   
I follow a few minutes later, hurt by her rejection. She is laughing with Laura in the kitchen as she cracks half a dozen eggs at once using her powers.   
“That was really good,”  
“Thank you,” She keeps her focus on the eggs, separating the yolks and whites, but I get a small grin.  
“Where are Clint and Yelena?” It had been almost two hours since I had seen either of them.   
“Yelena just went to talk to him, they’re in the barn,” Laura explains. Wanda’s smile has fallen, and I determine, that after checking in on Yelena, I am going to force her to talk to me.  
I pull on my coat and step out onto the back porch. Snow crunches underfoot, and the air is so cold it burns my throat. As I close the door behind me, shouts echo from the barn, followed by a crash.   
I rush into the barn and see Yelena fighting Clint. He is evading her the best he can, moving only on the defensive. They are clearly not sparring, as goes for his throat. For a moment, I am too stunned to react. Then I pounce forward, ripping Yelena away. She spits at him, cursing in Russian.   
“Yelena, stoy! Eto Clint!” _Stop! It’s Clint_. For a moment, I fear the walls that Bruce and Wanda put up have broken, but Clint is yelling out apologies in a mix of Russian and English.   
“You promise!” She wrenches herself free of my grasp, though no longer makes a move to attack our friend. “You promise! If I go, you protect her!” And Yelena begins to cry. I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen her do so. The tears build up in her eyes, only a few making it down her cheeks. “You promise,”   
“I’m sorry, Yelena. I know. I’m sorry.” Clint placates, and then looks to me.   
“What are you talking about?”   
Yelena angrily brushes away her tears, and then seems to realize for the first time, what she had said in front of me.   
“Yelena, what do you mean?”   
“I make him promise. If I die, he protect you. You protect me for years. Was my turn. I die, need someone else.”   
“I don’t need to be protected. I am one of the most dangerous people on Earth.”   
“Tasha, I not as smart as you, but not dumb.” She fixes her ponytail. “You in pain all the time. I see way you react and hide it. You not okay. And then I read reports.” She bites her lip.   
“I am getting better. I’m trying. I’ll get there,” I look between the two of them. “Really,”  
“I know, Tash. You the strongest person I know. But you’ve gone through hell. Yelena is trying to process it all.”   
“I leave you. Leave you and you tortured. Chantilly, Odessa, assassination attempt.” Her grief begins to morph into fury. “You take in war criminal like lost puppy. You masochist,”   
“Yelena,” Clint warns her. I step forward, clenching my fists.   
“You so desperate to take care of someone you take in thing that torture you! She just as bad as Red Room! I know I say okay, but before I knew she was Nazi pet. She try to kill you and play with your brain. She monster.”   
There is a slam behind me. The side door of the barn, and I know exactly who was there. I think I am going to throw up.   
“Watching the fucking interview,” I hiss at her, “And if that doesn’t change your tune, I want you gone before I get back.”  
I spin around, running out of the barn. Outside, snow has begun to fall heavily, quickly beginning to obscure the tracks that Wanda is leaving. I rush through the cornfields, trying to follow her footprints. They veer off, out of the fields, and I have no idea where she is going. I don’t think she does either.   
“Wanda,” I call out, “Please Little Witch,”   
Her path dips into the woods surrounding the property. I recognize where I am, I just didn’t think Wanda knew it existed. I hurry in until I find the large oak tree. Sure enough, there are tracks leading to the base. As I look up at the tree house, I see the entire structure is pulsing red. Clint built this after Loki, trying to do something constructive.   
I make my way up the nailed boards until I reach the base of the house, pushing open the hatch.   
“Wanda,” She is hovered in the corner, and the planks around her shutter, creaking. “Little Witch,” I steps into the one room house. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” The boards shake harder. “Wanda, I need you to take some deep breaths. If you break the treehouse with us in it, we will both get hurt.”   
“I can’t hurt you.” She mutters “I don’t mean to,”  
“Can you come over here, come down? We can talk things over inside,” She shakes her head rapidly, and two of the boards on the walls rip away. “Okay, well then I am going to come sit with you,” I pull myself up and crawl over. Red tendrils swirls out of her hands, and create a shield of some kind, similar to when I found her in the classroom. And just as before, they do not hurt me. I pull her into my arms and fell the red, misty curls begin wrap around me as well. They feel safe. She neglected to wear a coat despite the blizzard outside, and her teeth chatter; I take off my coat and wrap it around her.  
I rub her back in rhythmic circles until her sobs begin to subside, trailing off into uneven hiccups.   
“Okay, love, you’re okay.”   
“I don’t want to go, I have been trying so hard. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I can’t be good.”  
“What are you talking about?” She pulls away and I wipe at her tears with my sleeve.   
“I was just her replacement. And now that she is back, you don’t need me anymore. All I do is stress you out and worry you and hurt you,”  
“Wanda, my sweet girl. You are no one’s replacement.”  
“But I see you with her. She makes you happy, I don’t. I haven’t seen you smile that much in months. And I went and still screwed it up by getting into trouble. All I do is cause problems. You don’t have to keep me anymore. I’m eighteen. It’s okay, I understand. I wouldn’t want me either.” The clubhouse begins to shake once more, but I pretend not to notice.  
“I am never happier than when I am with you. You are the light of my life. It’s you and me, remember? You’re stuck with me.”   
“But,”  
“I have spent the last four days trying to be someone I’m not anymore. This person that Yelena remembered, one who isn’t broken beyond repair.”   
“What?” This admission seems to shock her powers into dormancy.  
“Long before we met, I used to be someone else, something else. But things change. I am struggling to accept that I can’t be the same for her.” And that I left her to die in the woods, only to be kidnapped by a terrorist organization of some kind. Experimented on for ten years.   
“But I’m bad, Nat. I am a Nazi pet, just as awful as Madame B. I played with,”   
“Stop.” I command. She freezes, gulping. I cannot recall the last time I was stern with her. “First, and most importantly, you are not like Hydra or the Red Room. At all. You are your own person, nothing like either of those organizations. I never want you to compare yourself to that woman. You are nothing like her and the world was made a better place when I put a bullet in her head.” I surprised the vitriol that still leaks from my voice so many years later. I force myself to calm down. “Yelena didn’t know what she was talking about. She was trying to protect me, in some false quest to be a hero, to make up for our childhoods. You are a good person, Wanda, my favorite person. There is no one I love more.”  
“Really?”   
“Yes. You are my daughter, and I am amazed every day that I get the honor to be your mother.”   
“I have been jealous since Yelena got here,” she confesses, “I saw you with her, and I thought I had lost my place. I thought it was only a matter of time before you saw that I am more work than I am worth.”  
“Never,”  
“Are you sure? A few days ago, I was at a party with my greatest hits,”   
“You are always surprising me.” She snorts at my attempt to lighten the mood. “I want you to talk to me more, okay? No more bottling things up. I am never too busy to be there for you. And you’re my love, right?”   
She nods, teary eyed, and throws herself into my arms once more. I hold her for a few more minutes, not wanting to be the one to pull away. I will sit here for hours if that is what she needs.   
“We should probably get back to the house instead of hiding in a treehouse during a snowstorm,” she sniffs.   
We climb down from the tree and trudge through the snow, taking a much more linear path this time. I rebuff her attempts to give me back my coat and am thankful for my resistance to the cold.   
As we near the house, I see Yelena outside on the porch, pacing back and forth. Wanda’s powers begin to pulse as her anxiety returns. Her steps slow as we get closer, and I can tell she is nervous that Yelena is going to attack her. My sister seems to have the same train of thought while looking at Wanda.   
“Love, can you head inside? I’m going to talk to Yelena, make sure we’re all on the same page,” I kiss her forehead and she hands me back my coat, trying to get inside while staying as far away from Yelena as possible. The back door closes.  
“Natasha,”  
“What the hell is wrong with you? She is just a kid, you know she is just a kid. And you would have known reading those papers that she was fifteen at the time. You know what we did when we were fifteen, Yelena? We were assassins. I was pleasuring the guards, killing children. How dare you have the audacity to even suggest that my daughter is a Nazi pawn or comparable to the monster who tortured us. You are lucky I didn’t rip out your heart on the spot.” Yelena shrinks, ducking her head. “I take it you watched the _60 Minutes_ interview?”   
“Da,” She bites her lip.  
“Do you know how long it took for me to convince her that she was not a threat to me? Almost two years. It took two years for my daughter to see that she is worthy of love and protection and that she will not hurt me. And you may have destroyed that in a matter of seconds.”   
“She victim and I am awful person.” She sits down on the steps, resting her head in her hands. “I am trying so hard, Tasha. I am lost. I wake up on futuristic jet surrounded by superheroes claiming we ten years in future. You have new life, new family. Whole world knows you. Not just us anymore. You gave up everything for me. I try to do little same and fail. I not natural protector.” She tilts her head up out of her hands. “I want to be like you, always. You go through worse than me, so much worse, and still better. You have good, strong soul.”   
“You aren’t bad, Lena.” I look at my broken little sister. Perhaps we are more alike than I thought.  
“I tear apart your girl. I can’t stay now. I go. Just want to apologize.”   
“Get inside before I change my mind. You owe Wanda and Clint both huge apologies.”   
“You not getting rid of me?”  
“No, because apparently, I’m a masochist,” She winces at my reference to her dig.  
We step inside and shake the snow off ourselves before stepping further into the kitchen. Wanda’s powers light up once more and I see Yelena’s guilt grow. A part of me thinks she deserves it; despite that she was just trying to protect me. The kitchen cabinets start to rattle, and Wanda is trying to calm down, closing her eyes, taking deep breaths.   
“Go find Clint, you can talk to her later,” Yelena hurries out of the room, her socked feet sliding across the hardwood. Laura is handing Wanda cup of tea, in the mug she made her. It seems to provide enough of a distraction to draw her powers back. I sit beside her as she drinks the tea. “If you want her to leave, she will go back to the compound.”   
“No,” Wanda keeps her eyes trained on the tea, “She is family.”   
“If you’re sure,”  
“She can’t be all bad.” She sits up straighter, “I want to get to know your sister.” Laura excuses herself from the kitchen to give us some time alone. “If she is important to you, she will be important to me. I understand her hesitation with me, I feel the same sometimes,” She holds out her hand and a bit of red dances between her fingers before dying out, “But I’m more than what they made me. Just like you, and just like her.”  
“I love you most,” I tilt her chin towards me, so our eyes meet.   
“That’s not possible,” she pouts. I raise my eyebrows, “Because I think I love you more, which means that I win.”  
A laugh escapes my chest, light and airy. It is real, happy. She glows, exuding warmth and love. How anyone could look at her and see a weapon is beyond me. She is perfect and wonderful and all the good things.   
“My Little Witch," 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mama bear Nat was roaring in this chapter. No one, not even Yelena, can come for Wanda. This probably wasn't the Wanda v. Yelena chapter that you all have in mind, but I couldn't have them actually fight each other, though I tried to write it out, because I want them to become friends. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Next one will feature some (unpleasant) characters from Volition whom we haven't seen in a while.   
> As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!


	30. Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning for use of a word that readers may find offensive**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, sorry for the delay! I worked crazy hours this past week and when I finally had time to write on Saturday, I remembered that the new season of Lucifer was released and well I had to watch the whole thing... But here we are! Please enjoy! I kind of feel like I wrote myself into a bit of a corner with the last chapter, so this is me kind of writing myself out. The next chapter is the boot camp one!

Natasha goes to find Clint and Yelena after our talk. Given the size of the property, this could be a rather daunting task. As I peel the potatoes for dinner, I feel increasingly guilty for how I acted over the past few days, and I missed the signs that Nat was not genuinely happy. My acting out caused her more worry than she was already feeling. It occurs to me now, that if Ross knows that Nat has the serum, it is easy to conclude that Yelena does as well. She looks twenty-two, not thirty-two. And here I was, getting lost in the city in the middle of the night. Natasha’s entire world was upended, and I was being a selfish, little,  
“Shit!” I pull back my hand and raise my thumb to my mouth.  
“You okay, Hun?” Laura asks, looking over from the Crockpot where she is putting in the roast.  
“Nicked myself. I know where the Band-Aids are, don’t worry,” I head out of the kitchen to towards the downstairs bath. After taping up my thumb, I begin to head back towards the kitchen, only to run straight into Yelena. Despite Nat’s reassurances, my heartrate picks up and I burn with shame. The things she said were true, which makes them hurt even more.  
“Wanda,” She gives me a tentative smile, “If you have time, I would like to talk to you,”  
“Nat is looking for you,” I blurt out, my words blending together. I avoid her eyes and hurry back to the kitchen.  
However, with it being a pressure cooker meal, once everything is cut and pealed, there is not much for us to do. I offer to make a dessert, but Laura already made a pumpkin pie this afternoon. So, I scurry off, trying to find a place to escape like the coward I am.  
I head up to Cooper’s room. No one expects me to go up there, the stairs are dangerously steep, as they are to the attics of most old homes.  
“Wanda? What are you doing up here?” Cooper asks as I settle onto his couch. He steps away from his desk, where a bow sits, deconstructed, and surrounded by tools.  
“Avoiding responsibility. What are you doing?”  
“Trying to make a new weapon for my dad, I had some ideas.”  
“Do you remember Yelena? You knew her, before she died, right? Or well, not died,”  
“I only have one vague memory of her. She was giving me B.” He references his well-loved polar bear. “But it is one of those memories that you kind of convince yourself is real, even if it isn’t,” He shrugs.  
“Did they ever talk about her to you?”  
“Yeah, last summer, after the whole,” he looks down at his lap, “Accusing Auntie Nat thing, I talked to my dad. He told me that Yelena used to show up on their SHIELD missions and save the day last minute, being in the next building over with a sniper rifle, only helping if she was needed. He called her his guardian devil. I guess she saved his life a few times.” I nod, trying to figure out where my head is at, because it seems easier than figuring out whatever emotion is swirling around.  
“Do you know anything else about her?”  
“Yeah, but its bad, or sad.” I forgot for a minute that Cooper is only eleven, in the past few months, he has matured. I hate that it happened due to Lila getting sick. Childhood should last as long as possible.  
“Can you tell me?” I try to keep the impatience out of my voice.  
“So, you know how Auntie Nat is different than Yelena?” Yes, it is extremely obvious how different they are, “Well, I overheard Mom and Dad talking a few nights ago. Lila used to always eavesdrop, but they don’t really have to worry about that anymore. Until she recruited me to be her ears.” Cooper rolls his eyes, but the affection is obvious, “And Dad was talking about how Auntie Nat gave herself to the Red Room for Yelena. She gave up everything to make sure Yelena survived, and that Yelena still felt really guilty for it. I don’t really know what he meant,” The boy shrugs.  
“Thanks Coop,” I twirl the ring on my thumb, thinking.  
“If there is a snow day tomorrow, can we go sledding?” He hops up from his little couch, heading back to his desk.  
“Sure,” I give him a smile and head towards the stairs, “See you at dinner.”  
I knock on the door to Nat’s old room. There is some shuffling on the other side, and the door opens. Yelena is freshly showered, her long, damp hair staining her green blouse.  
“Wanda,” She tilts her head, obvious just as confused by my presence as I am. I don’t know what my feet had in mind, leading me to this door. I swallow my nerves.  
“Can I come in?” She steps out of the way, opening the door wider.  
The room seems off without all of Natasha’s things, her worn quilt and pile of books. Everything in here, though nice, is new. It doesn’t even quite smell the same.  
“I am sorry,” she begins, sitting down on the bed. I stay standing. “I want to protect Natasha, hurting you, not my intention. She tell me watch interview, I not listen at first. I stubborn, do things my way.”  
“You watched the interview?” So she knows that I am some drug addled child soldier who volunteered for my own torture.  
“You too much like Tasha,” I meet her eyes, ready to defend Nat, “I mean in good way,” she rushes to explain, “You still think people are good. People deserve kindness. You go through hell and still hold onto compassions. Is admirable.”  
“I have hurt people,” She tilts her head, and I can see her intelligent eyes picking me apart like a puzzle.  
“When Tasha took down Red Room, I go on killing spree. Kill everyone who wronged her. Or try to. Is long list. But Tasha, when Tasha get free, she chose to do good. She make world better and safer. She slip up sometimes, like in Cuba,” Cuba? Before I can ask, Yelena has continued talking, “But heart always in right place. Always do good, be better. No one has more kindness.”  
“Cooper told me something he overheard his Clint and Laura talking about. What did they mean when they said that she gave up herself in the Red Room for you?” I sit tentatively down in the wicker armchair in the corner, still by the door. Sadness flickers across Yelena’s face, before a neutral mask slides into place once more.  
“Tasha always kind, always merciful. She live in hell where words do not exist, so she create them. She create safety where is none. When girl about to get punished, she cause distraction, so she get hit instead. Or volunteer for experiments when my turn. She always volunteer when my turn. They let her. Don’t know why. But she lose parts of self. Some never came back. Most did. She never lose soul though. Was my turn to save her, and I fail. I get myself kidnapped, break down walls. I cause her pain, and not help her.” Yelena is different in Natasha in another way. Despite her ability to keep her mask in place, the emotion bleeds into her voice. She cares about Natasha, that much is obvious. Perhaps almost as much as I do. Perhaps even more than Clint. “I make big mistake, you good. I am sorry. Is okay if you not accept apology. Someday, we friends, da?”  
“For Natasha,” I confirm.  
“For us,” Her eyes survey me once more, and again I feel like I am under interrogation, like she is trying to find out everything about me in just a look. I stand up, ready for this conversation to be over.  
“There is a list of TV shows and movies we don’t watch around Nat. Some of them we don’t know if they’d um, upset her, but we don’t want to risk it.” I wring my hands, biting my cheeks, “ _Dollhouse_ , _Salt_ , _Stranger Things_. I’ll text you the list and see you at dinner.”  
I head down the hall into my room, sinking onto my bed, feeling even more unsettled and unsure than before. She is just as broken as Natasha or I. How am I supposed to dislike someone who just wants to keep Nat safe? Who just wants to love her and be a part of her life? And it isn’t as though I have not said things that are terrible. Most notably, when I told her she wasn’t my mother. Just the thought of that statement, and the aftermath that followed, makes me sick to my stomach. There is also the time I raped Natasha’s mind. Or brought her back without her consent. Or almost killed her in training. Or made her relive her time in the Red Room and being sterilized. But Natasha does not hate me. No matter what I do, she continues to stand by me. Perhaps I ought to extend Yelena the same courtesy. To have an ounce of the forgiveness in my heart that Natasha has in hers.  
“Hi,” I look over at the doorway connecting our rooms. “You okay? Yelena texted me, asking to check on you. She thinks she shared too much,”  
“You never talk about your childhood.”  
“If you have questions, I will do my best to answer them.” I want to ask her about the Red Room, about what kind of experiments Yelena meant. What did they do to her? To the other girls? But that is in the past, and it will do no good to drudge it up for Nat. It will serve no purpose but satisfying my desire to understand my mom a little better.  
“I talked to Steve,” She bolts upright, her eyes wide. Tension ripples off her in waves.  
“When?”  
“A few days ago,” She instantly relaxes and I wonder what happened between them recently, and if that is why he didn’t come to see us off. Maybe something with Bucky?  
“What did you talk about?”  
“I asked what happened at the meeting,”  
“You have nothing to worry about, I won’t let him contain you, hold you prisoner.”  
“What?” I feel the color drain from my face. “He wants to take me? I thought I was safe now. I thought that the interview fixed everything,”  
“It did, you’re okay.” She takes my hand in hers, ignoring the pulsing red as I try to get my emotions under control. “You’re okay,” She squeezes them. “What were you referring to, then?”  
“Ross, knowing about you, about the serum.” She lets go of my hands, “And now Yelena is alive, and you aren’t the only one with the serum and you have to protect her and me. And yourself and run the team. And manage all your finances, be a superhero, teach me eight subjects, be my mom, runs ops, and take care of yourself. And I am really sorry I have been such a brat when you are trying to deal with all this. And I am really scared that Ross is going to take you away, because you can’t go away. If you go away, I don’t know what will happen to me. I couldn’t, I can’t,” My breaths come quick and shallow.  
“Okay, love. Match my breathing, okay?” She makes exaggerated breaths, “Come on, Little Witch,”  
“No, you’re not supposed to be comforting me. I was trying to comfort you. To show you I could be here for you, that I can be strong. But,”  
“I’m getting better, Wanda. I am going to get better, okay? I promise.”  
“No!” I jump up from the bed, “That isn’t what I mean! I,” I begin to feel myself losing control again. What is wrong with me?  
“Wanda, talk it out with me. What is upsetting you specifically in this moment?”  
“That you don’t understand!” I run my fingers through my hair, “That I am scared for you.” And that I am going to kill you, one day. That someday, I will lose control to such a degree, that I kill everyone around me, everyone who dares to care for me. That all I bring is death and destruction. But in this moment, my greatest fear is that something will happen to her. “I am scared that if they find out about Yelena and try to take her away, that you will take her place.”   
“No one is going anywhere. Tomorrow, Maria is releasing a press release about the newest member of the Avengers. She worked with Tony and Fury to secure Yelena papers. She is going to have the same protection as I do. No one is going to take anyone away. And that goes doubly true for separating us. It’s you and me, remember?” I nod, biting my cheeks. “Now, it smells like dinner is ready, and I am sure since you helped cook, it is even more amazing than usual.” She looks as though she wants to say more, but changes her mind, instead heading towards the door, “Kick your butt in high gear, Clint has been bellyaching about dinner since we arrived.”  
During dinner, Cooper talks about the possibility of a four-day weekend, as today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day and there is a blizzard outside. Lila is yet to go back to school, though it up to date on her schoolwork. Laura and Clint have not forced her, but the stubborn girl spends most mornings grinding through it, according to Nat.  
“Laura, this is excellent,” Clint compliments.  
“Well, I couldn’t have done it without my assistant,” She gives me a bright smile. “And don’t forget to save room for dessert, Lila and I made pumpkin pie this afternoon.”  
“And homemade whipped cream,” Lila adds, “I got to lick the beaters,” Clint translates quickly for Yelena, Cooper, and Nate, who is only half listening as he tries to skewer cut up carrots with his toddler fork.  
“And everyone is coming out this weekend for bootcamp, right guys?” Clint looks at his children, smiling brightly. Nicole starts to cry from her swing, and Laura scoops her up, continuing to eat with the baby held to her chest. “Laura and Lila are visiting a specialist Tony recommended, one he is working with for her hearing aids.” Lila seems less than thrilled, probably now having a rather negative connotation with doctors’ officers. I can imagine the fight that ensued prior to our arrival regarding this. But Lila then looks to Nat and me, seeming to be thinking hard.  
“Can we get lunch after with Auntie Nat and Wanda?” Laura nods, trying to soothe Nicole.  
“I excited for bootcamp. Going to be fun,”  
“Tony invited Peter, I think he is going to come up.”  
“Good,” Natasha looks at me, and somehow, without me telling her, I know she is aware that I have not talked to Peter since Thursday, when the whole party fiasco went down.  
The night winds down fairly quickly after dessert, with Laura and Clint doing bedtime routines, part of which includes Nate running through the house in just a pullup with a wiffleball bat in hand.  
I sleep through the night.

* * *

My mattress jostles, and I pull the blankets up over my head, not even opening my eyes. Without looking at the clock, I already know it is far too early.  
“Wanda, come on. It’s a snow day! You said we could go sledding,”  
“I will get up at seven-thirty,” I promise.  
Cooper pulls down the blanket, “It is seven thirty-two.” Cooper sits on my bed in Hawkeye pajamas, while Lila is wearing a Black Widow nightgown. She has a sleep mask pushed up on her forehead, and it looks like a dagger. Beside her, is her new constant companion, Lucky. No matter where she goes, Lucky is close by. I have seen him catch her on more than one occasion as she starts to lose her balance. The dog has grown on me.  
“Fine, dobrý Boh,”  
“I don’t know what that means,”  
“It means you two are the death of me,” I stretch, climbing out of bed. “I will be downstairs in twenty minutes. Make sure you save me some pancakes.”  
When I get downstairs, everyone else has already gathered. Cooper is wolfing down his pancakes, giving me a thumbs up as he notes my arrival.  
I take my seat and see a plate has already been loaded up. I can only imagine what Cooper has planned.   
I head out with the two older Barton children after breakfast. Lila sits on the sled as Cooper drags it forward, my magic assisting. We reach a hill not far behind the farmhouse. The more often I come here, the more evident it is why Clint bought the property. There is hardly ever a reason to leave. We reach the top of the hill, and Cooper looks down.  
“Can you use your powers to push the sled with us on it?” I nod. The three of us climb onto the toboggan, Lila in front, me in back. I’m actually surprised she is joining us.  
“I haven’t gone sledding since I was a kid, maybe eight or so,” I bite my cheeks, feeling nervous. There are so many ways this could go wrong, with using my powers. Lila could get hurt, my leg could get caught on something and I wouldn’t notice,”  
“Wanda, come on,” Cooper complains, “Let’s just do it!” I swallow and lift up my feet. We begin to slide forward, and I let my magic unfurl, encasing the sled. The sled surges, gliding across the snow. Lucky runs beside it, trying to keep up, only to somersault. The kids scream in delight as we continue to sled long past the hill.  
“That was amazing!” Cooper jumps up as the sled skids to a stop. He had since lost his hat, and Lila’s cheeks are bright pink as she glows with equal enthusiasm.  
We make a few more runs until it is nearly ten thirty, all of us sufficiently numbed by the cold. At the back door, we shed our snow pants and boots until only our long underwear, pajama pants, and fuzzy socks remain. Natasha laughs at the sight of snow frozen to the braids Lila and I sport.  
Laura hands us hot chocolates and we gather around the kitchen table. Lila is beginning to tell us about her boyfriend, Henry, the one who brought her animal crackers to school, and how he had been sending her pictures in the mail, when a light flashes in the corner of the kitchen, along with a bell ringing. Clint emerges from his office, Yelena on his heels.  
“We aren’t expecting anyone,” Natasha instantly stiffens, and I see her eyes drift to the cookie jar on top of the fridge. It is not hard to guess what is stored in there.  
“They are approved guests, Friday would have alerted us otherwise,” Laura replies, signing back. Friday had been installed around the perimeter of the property, alerting the family if unapproved visitors entered or neared the premises.  
“Did you talk to Steve?” Clint turns to Nat. Natasha blushes, and it is enough to cause us all to pause for a moment. He raises his eyebrows at his best friend, but says nothing, instead walking towards the front door to look out. “God damn it,” Clint curses.  
“Swear jar!” Cooper calls out.  
“Who is it?” Laura calls from the kitchen, placing fresh cut apples with cinnamon in front of us.  
“It’s your mother’s car.” Normally gentle and quiet Laura looks like she may grab the cookie jar before Natasha would get the chance.  
“Grandma is coming?” Cooper jumps up, smiling. I relay the information to Lila, who sinks down in her seat. From what I had heard, the two of them adored their grandmother.  
“Cousins,” Lila explains, “You’re the only good one.” I’m touched that she thinks of me as her cousin, but at the same time, it is concerning that friendly and likable Lila is not a fan of the children likely accompanying their grandmother.  
“Did she tell you she was coming?” Natasha looks to Laura, and she appears nervous, clenching and unclenching her fists at her side.  
“Laura wonderful, family must be too, da?” Yelena glances at Laura and Nat. Our time has run out as I hear a car beep in the driveway. Nate emerges from the sunroom pushing himself on a toddler sized indoor toy car while banging on a drum, and Nicole begins to scream on the baby monitor. Lucky begins to bark at the car outside. Everyone gravitates to the living room, Yelena is undoubtedly just as curious as I am to meet Laura’s family.  
They don’t even knock.  
The door opens and an older woman in a quilted Burberry coat breezes in, beside her is someone who is obviously Laura’s sister, and three children dart in, trying to escape the cold. Lila clings to my wool pajama bottoms, seemingly trying to hide behind me. Cooper has no such qualms, greeting his cousins excitedly. Two appear to be close to his age, while the other is closer to Lila’s.  
“Mom, hi, it is great to see you,” Laura lies, pulling her mother into a hug, “You too, Mary.”  
“Yes, well with it being a snow day in both school districts, we thought we should stop by,”  
“A snow day means you stay home, that it is too dangerous to be on the road.”  
“Back when you girls were children, they would not have called a snow day over something like this. This is hardly a dusting. People are getting too soft.” Cooper goes to greet his grandmother and aunt, before taking his cousins upstairs to see his new room.  
“You remember Nat,” Laura begins carefully, “This is her sister Yelena, and daughter Wanda. Yelena, Wanda, this is my mother, Catherine, and sister, Mary.” The pair of women look at us with thinly veiled disdain.  
“And there is Ms. Lila,” Catherine bends down with surprising spryness for a woman in her seventies. Lila makes no move to go to her, instead reaching for Natasha. The hidden dislike of our presence is no longer quite so disguised.  
“She didn’t used to be so shy. You can’t encourage this kind of behavior, Laura,” Mary scolds as Lila buries her face into Nat’s shoulder. Nate greets his grandmother with a slobbery kiss. Nicole begins to cry once more.  
“We are letting Lila take things at her own pace. She has been making big strides. I am going to grab Nikki, I will be right back,” Laura hurries upstairs, and sends a look to Clint that can only be described as a desperate plea.  
“I have just put on a fresh pot of coffee, can I interest either of you in a glass?”  
“Yes. Two sugars and a splash of cream for us both.” Clint leaves the room and Mary settles down in Natasha’s chair. Nat is too busy checking in on Lila to notice, but Clint does immediately upon his return. Catherine takes the mugs from him. I stand awkwardly to the side with Yelena and begin to feel a strange sort of kinship with her.  
“You did excellent job raising Laura,” Yelena compliments the cold woman. Mary’s lip curls at Lucky who has gone to greet her.  
“You couldn’t even get a dog with two good eyes, Clinton? Really?” It is quickly becoming apparent why Laura, Clint, and Nat were dreading this arrival.  
Laura returns with baby Nicole, who wears a onesie I had bought for her, it is covered in ladybugs.  
“She has been finally sleeping through the night,” Laura explains, “But not so much during the day,” Mary takes Nicole, holding her in her arms.  
“Did you pick a middle name?”  
“Yes, Mare. We told you, Maxine.” Laura gives me a little grin, “Wanda helped me when I was giving birth to Nicole, she had become breached and Wanda turned her around,” I feel Nat’s eyes zero in on me.  
_You did not mention that part_ , her voice echoes in my head.  
_You were a little busy and stressed at the time,_ I remind her.  
“Laura, you mentioned Captain America has been spending time here. Is he here now?”  
“No, he’s working.”  
“He is a good American, knows his duty to his country. Your father would love if he could receive a call from him. That is such a small ask.”  
“Steve is a busy guy, but I’m sure he could carve out some time,” Clint replies, leaning against a beam.   
“ _Steve_ , good God. Show him some respect. He is an American hero.” I tentatively sit down beside Nat and Lila on the loveseat, my leg hitching slightly.  
“Mom, they are coworkers,” Laura reminds, heading into the kitchen. She returns a moment later with oatmeal cookies. How Laura has time to do all she does is beyond me.  
“Why has Captain America been spending so much time here?” Mary asks, sounding suspicious.  
“Oh, he and Nat are really close,” Laura sets down the plate on the coffee table.  
“Really? With her, the Russian assassin?” Catherine scoffs. I feel my powers begin to flicker and a familiar hand lands on my back. Lila is watching the exchange and is not oblivious to the tension rising in the room. She grabs Nate and leaves quickly, heading for the playroom. Lucky, as always, is not far behind.  
“Clint, light the fireplace. I know you have a big pile of firewood on the porch.” Natasha stiffens beside me, and this does not go unnoticed by Yelena.  
“It fills the house with smoke, Mom. We are not lighting it.”  
“It is because you don’t have it properly ventilated,” the older woman begins. I am starting to get tired of this.  
“You know, a friend of mine was telling me about cochlear implants. Her nephew has one,” Mary changes the subject.  
“Lila isn’t a candidate,” Clint crosses his arms.  
“Of course you would say that,” She rolls her eyes, “It repairs the child’s hearing.”  
“That is not how it works,” His jaw clicks.  
“You didn’t even finish high school; how would you know?” Catherine snaps, “I was talking to my friend, the chiropractor, you dated his son in high school, Laura, and he said that it is a miracle worker. You are denying Lila opportunities,” Laura is fuming. Clint looks as though he is about to explode. Natasha jumps up, grabbing Clint.  
“Let’s get everyone some more coffee, okay?” The pair leave the room.  
“Mom, Mary, we have _literally_ the top doctors in the world working on Lila, along with many biotech companies and Stark Industries. And your chiropractor friend does not specialize in hearing loss, so his professional opinion is invalid.”  
Laura’s patience is beginning to run out. Yelena continues to linger in the corner of the room, a silent observer for the first time since we have met. Laura joins her mother on the couch, her back rod straight. Nicole begins to wail once more.  
“Oh give her to Wanda, she is like magic, almost as good as Nat,” I flush at the compliment and get up from the loveseat, Mary does not meet me halfway and instead I walk to her. As soon as Nicole enters my arms, the screaming subsides. My steps are uneven but stable, as I am a little sore from romping around in the snow all morning. I hold my hand above Nicole’s head and let some red sprinkle down on her. The baby erupts into giggles.  
“Laura, you just allow your children around anyone, really. Now you let this gimp,” I flinch at hearing the whispered slur coming from Catherine’s mouth. Before Laura can react, Yelena has pounced.  
“What you call her?” She barks.  
“Pardon me? Your accent is so thick,” Catherine sneers. Suddenly, the woman is no longer on the couch. She is pinned against the bookcases, the assassin inches from her face.  
“You understood. What you call her? You say now, say it now,” Yelena produces a knife, pressing it against the old woman’s throat. There is no longer any amusement on either of the relative’s faces. Laura has risen from the couch, looking conflicted. I feel locked in place. There is a thundering of feet on stairs and the sound of the back-door slamming shut. The living room is full once more. The children are crying and arguing, one of the cousins is developing a black eye.  
“Lena, what are you doing?” Natasha exclaims, taking in the scene. Yelena draws her knife back, sliding it back into her jeans with a growl, before turn to Nat.  
“She call Wanda,” Her eyes drift to the kids, “G-I-M-P,” The kids are definitely old enough to spell the word, but Cooper doesn’t seem to know what it means, looking to me. I am unable to meet his eyes, shame burning in me.  
“It is not my mother’s fault that girl is lame,” Natasha reaches for the fire poker, her face completely neutral.  
“Cooper punched me!” The girl, who appears to be only a year older than Cooper, screams. Then, Lucky comes running in with Nate’s drum stuck on his head, crashing right into the coffee table, and sending cookies flying, the plate smashing on the floor. Nate comes running in after, with Lila not far behind. The girl’s eyes widen, looking at all the chaos. I hold Nicole tighter in my arms, trying to not let the sudden influx of everyone’s thoughts set off my powers.  
“Out.” Laura whispers. Her voice is quiet, but commanding. “Out,” she says again, her voice getting louder. “Get out,” Laura maintains her steady control.  
“Laur,”  
“Leave my house before I have you removed.” No one moves. “Now!” She shouts. This springs everyone into action. Laura’s family begins to gather the children and hurry out the door, while Clint tries to remove the drum from the puppy’s head. Cooper starts to pick up the broken plate and cookies.  
“Wanda,” Natasha sits down beside me, fire poker abandoned, “Are you okay, love?” I nod my head, biting my cheeks. A lump form in my throat, and I feel my chest tighten.  
“I am so sorry, hun,” Laura crouches down beside me. “They are cruel people. They don’t deserve you in their lives, they don’t deserve any of us.”  
“Personally, I think Yelena could have done us all a favor,” Clint mutters, finally getting the drum off the dog’s head. He zips over to Lila, planting at her feet, his tongue hanging out to the side. Like causing additional chaos had all been part of his plan.  
“Cooper, why did you punch Emily?” Laura looks over her shoulder.  
“She said some things that I wasn’t okay with,” He stands up straight, and I see a bruise forming on his cheek, Emily or her older brother got a hit in as well. “I don’t regret it. So, any punishment you give me would be pointless.” He tilts his chin up in defiance.  
“Laura, you come from them?” Yelena asks, crossing her arms. The brunette’s head hangs, “I am so sorry, they awful.” A half sob, half laugh erupts from Laura. Natasha takes Nicole, handing her to Clint.  
I follow her into the kitchen. My mouth tastes like metal. Natasha slips off to the powder room and returns with a bottle of canker mouthwash. I take a sip and swish, it burns the fresh wounds on the inside of my cheeks.  
“Do you want to go home?” Natasha asks as she places the bottle on the counter, “I can have us on a plane in an hour. I could have Steve fly here with the quinjet, or Fury. Wanda, what she said was not okay, it wasn’t true,” Wasn’t true? Of course it was true. This isn’t when she tries to convince me that I am not a burden, or that I am not the devil incarnate.  
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” I close my eyes for a moment, “I just want to go back into the living room and be with our family. I’d like to play a game on Monopoly with Lila and have you braid my hair. I would even like to hear a story from Yelena about you and Clint’s days in SHIELD.” I want to pretend that I don’t know what Emily said to make Cooper hit her. I want to pretend that everything is okay, because if I pretend long enough, I will start to believe it. Natasha takes my hand and squeezes.   
"Whatever you need, love, I'm here,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I had a different ending written out, but I decided to move it to a different part of Kindred, a later chapter
> 
> I have some new story lines planned out for our girls, stay tuned! But there may be a delay on chapters, as I really do not have much time anymore because of my new job. Please know I have not lost interest and have no intention of abandoning our girls! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, hope you are staying safe and healthy! As always, comments are welcome and appreciated!


	31. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,  
> Bootcamp Part 1!! This will be a two parter because I was a bit of a rambler in this chapter. Honestly, this chapter wouldn't have happened without your comments. It was just a single sentence about bootcamp, but so many of you wanted to see it, I included it! That being said, I am always open to requests and trying to fit them in the best I can! All of your comments mean so much! Whenever I have writer's block, I go back and read them. Thank you all for reading along, and please enjoy this fluffy-ish chapter! 
> 
> On a much sadder note, rest in peace Chadwick Boseman. A true hero. Gone too soon.

Wanda remained mostly silent and closed off for the rest of Tuesday, barely leaving my side. I don’t even know if she was conscious of how much their words upset her. Clint, Yelena, and I went to his office a few hours after that disaster for the press release. It was a simple memo released on social media, announcing her joining the team, with additional information to come. It is enough to secure her place with us, and not in a prison or testing center.  
After watching the social media feeds for a little while, waiting to see the public response, which was favorable, we went back to the living room. Wanda continued to follow me around like a duckling for the rest of the evening. _  
_ However, by the next morning, she was back to herself again. When I strolled into the kitchen, I found her making omelets for everyone. In an even more surprising turn of events, when I walked into the new family room that the Barton’s had added, I found her sitting next to Yelena on the couch, showing her _Brooklyn 99_.  
On Thursday afternoon, when Cooper gets out of school, Tony and Pepper arrive, the plane landing on the runway.  
“You are not bringing that mutt to my compound,” The inventor glares at Lucky, who had just finished peeing on one of the plane’s wheels. Lila looks at Tony’s face, and hugs the dog close. “Fine,” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
“Thank you! Thank you!” Lila signs quickly, bringing the dog onto the plane. Clint smirks as he boards with Nate.  
“Don’t you say anything,” Tony turns to the father of four.  
“You thought that was hard? Wait until it is your own kid,”  
I follow Clint on board and take my seat beside Wanda. She has her math textbook open on her lap, and a pencil floats, twirling in the air, above her fingers, as she is deep in thought. I take a quick photo, marveling at her. It doesn’t seem possible to love someone this much. Her face lights up as she figures out the problem, the pencil flying back into her hand.  
“What do you and Steve have planned for the boot camp?” She looks over at me after she finishes the worksheet, closing the book.  
“It’s a surprise, but I promise it will be interesting,” Wanda nods, curling up into her oversized cardigan.  
“Is Vizh going to be there?”  
“Yes, he’s coming in from Malibu tomorrow,”  
“I haven’t seen him in a while,” She tugs on a loose thread.  
“Is it a good thing or bad thing that he is coming?” She shrugs.  
“Neutral I guess,” I can’t tell which way she is lying because it definitely not neutral. “Have you talked to Steve since we got out here? You were both acting weird when we left Monday,” I can feel Yelena’s attention shift away from Pepper and over to us.  
“We’re fine,” I assure her. Just as I don’t believe her about Vision, she doesn’t seem to believe me about Steve.  
For the past few days, I have been able to avoid the fact that I have likely ruined our friendship. And that I was selfish, stupid, and irrational. But now, as we near the compound, I will be forced to deal with it. It will be like just before SHIELD fell all over again. When for some reason, he suddenly started acting coldly towards me. I had done something wrong, but I didn’t know what. Now, I know what I have done. I forced myself into his room, invading his space, took advantage of our friendship all because of some weird comfort I feel when I am with him. And a pleasant flutter I get when he smiles at me, like we are sharing an inside joke. But that won’t happen anymore.  
The plane hits the tarmac, and I wonder how long I have been lost in my thoughts. At least for two hours. I didn’t have two hours’ worth of thoughts. I drifted. I slipped. Wanda is asleep on my shoulder. I rouse her gently, and once again can feel Yelena observing me. I wonder if she has learned what else has gone wrong in the past three years, my other failures and shortcomings.  
We disembark from the jet with our luggage and I spy Sam and Maria getting out of a quinjet. Their light jackets are indicative of the warmer climate they are coming from, rather than the parkas needed in Upstate New York this time of year.  
“Hey, we got Yelena’s papers,” Maria holds up a manilla folder. I feel a twist of nostalgia, reminding me of my days at SHIELD as a secret agent. Before March 2012, when suddenly my face was on televisions all over the world. Sometimes, most times, I miss the anonymity.  
“Maria, good to see you,” Yelena comes up behind me, taking the folder.  
“Hi Yelena, you too. I’m glad you’re not dead.”  
“Same. Remember, I always say SHIELD criminal organization? I right,” She gives our friend a smug smile, flipping through her paperwork. “Oh, I red-blooded American now. You hear Clint? You got competition,”  
“Do you even know the preamble? Or the first president?” he huffs, shifting Nicole’s carrier.  
“Chester Arthur was twenty-first,” she shoots back. We all turn to stare at her, pausing. She flips her ponytail over her shoulder and stalks ahead.  
“She didn’t answer my question,” Clint mutters to me. I give him a smile, but half my attention is on Sam and Wanda, who look deep in discussion as we walk towards the compound. “Hey, Mom, give her some privacy. I can see your super ears straining.”  
“I just worry,”  
“I know, it is your job. Speaking of which,” I don’t like where this is going, “Want to tell me about what is going on with you and Steve?”  
“Not particularly.”  
“You know,”  
“Clint,” I warn, a sharp edge to my voice that draws the attention of Maria and Pepper. He drops it.  
We enter the residential wing of the compound and everyone quickly sheds their coats. Already, the common area is bustling. Thor, Bruce, and Rhodes are in a heated discussion, trying to explain basketball to the Asgardian. Steve is chiming in from the kitchen, though conversation stops upon our arrival. Thor is introduced to Yelena. It has been so long since we had last seen him. I think it was Wanda’s adoption hearing August five months ago.  
“Natasha, can we talk?” Steve asks quietly, grabbing my arm.  
“Steve, you made dinner, right? We’re starving,” Clint picks up Nate, hanging him upside down, causing the toddler to giggle.  
The sixteen of us gather around the table, as Peter will not be arriving until tomorrow after school. This team dinner goes much better than the last, and I am grateful that Yelena does not grill Wanda as she did before. It pains me that she is still nervous around the team years later. She has warmed up to Steve in recent months, since I went on the mission with Sam, which is a major improvement. But still, even on coms, she is quiet.  
I feel a kick under the table, the shoe colliding directly with the large scar on my shin, sending tingles up my leg. Yelena is staring at me, as are a few other teammates.  
“I’m sorry, I was going over plans for tomorrow in my head, what did you say?”   
“I ask your opinion on name. You already Black Widow.”  
“Chyornaya Vdova or Black Viper,” I reply, thankful I had already thought about it.  
“I was thinking maybe different color widow, but you go by Widow on coms, da?” I nod, taking a bite of my burrito.  
Clint and Maria begin to share stories about Yelena’s time working _with_ SHIELD, not _for_ , as my sister loudly corrects. Yelena glows at the praise, ever so humble. Dinner winds down, and I begin to help clear the table.  
“Nat, can we go over the plans for tomorrow?” Steve asks, putting his plate on the counter, “Everyone else has got this,”  
“But,”  
“Go, we’re fine,” Clint assures. I want to strangle him.  
I trail behind Steve on the way to his office, not wanting to have this conversation. Perhaps he really does want to just talk about the plans for team training and not how I have ruined everything. I step into his office and he closes the door behind me.  
“Nat,”  
“So, tomorrow at three we are having the meeting? And spaghetti dinner after?”  
“We need to talk about Sunday,”  
“And we can do eggs or something Saturday morning, so everyone has energy for all the trainings during the day. Is there anything I should buy when I head into the city tomorrow for Lila’s appointment? Any specialty food items?”  
“Natasha,”  
“So we’re all set, right?” I force myself to meet his eyes and resist the urge to dig my nails into my palms. “Please?” Please let us still be friends. Please don’t let years of friendship be ruined by a single night. He lets out a heavy sigh and nods his head.  
“Yeah, we’re all set.”  
“So, have you talked to Sharon lately?” See nothing has changed. I am still the friend you can talk to.  
“What?”  
“Sharon Carter, cute nurse from across the hall,” I tease.  
“Not since Peggy’s funeral,” As morbid as it seems, I wonder now if my showing up served as some kind of cockblock. “I guess Maria got dinner with her a few weeks ago, she is dating a new guy, some politician.”  
“I’m sorry,” I try to sound sincere.  
“I broke things off with her. We haven’t been on a date since before Ultron, Nat.”  
“Is that the last time you went on a date? You know, there is this woman who works in R&D at Stark Industries,”  
“I’m not interested,” he cuts me off shortly. There is none of the amusement he used to have when I’d try to set him up.  
“Okay,” I nod, pushing down my hurt, “Of course. I’m sorry.”  
“Natasha,”  
“I’m going to go throw knives for a little while. I’ll see you later.”  
I seek refuge in the gym. In this short range, it isn’t much of a challenge, but the movements are cathartic all the same. The loose sweater begins to get in the way, and I pull it off, so I am in just my sports bra. I relish in the silence. The only sound is my knife thwapping against the target.  
“Tasha, there you are,” My solitude disappears.  
“Can’t I ever just be alone?” I snap, throwing another knife.  
“O Bozhe!” My sister’s horror brings gives me pause. She rushes towards me, grabbing my arms. “Tasha, what happen?” I pull away and slide back on my sweater.  
“I’m fine,”  
“Natasha!”  
“A mission went sideways. I survived. I always do. This isn’t even the worst thing to happen to me in the past few years,” I laugh humorlessly. She stares at me. “What, did you stop reading all the files?”  
“Da. I wait for you to share.”  
“Then you are going to be waiting a long time.”  
“Why don’t you tell me? What, you think I run away? I leave? You stuck with me,”  
“I can’t relive it all, Lena. I don’t want to relive burning alive, or having my throat slit, drowning in my own blood, watching as they amputate my daughter’s leg, I just can’t. I am too tired,”  
“Tasha,”  
“I didn’t tell everyone else and not you. They were there.”  
“I’m sorry I not there, I’m sorry! I know is bad, I here now,”  
“Please tell me you do not feel bad about being held prisoner for ten years. Yelena, I am not going to let you feel bad about that. It was my fault. We had a deal.”  
“Is good you failed our deal so I here now. I’m sorry I not get here sooner, not find way. You would have found way,”  
“You are too hard on yourself,” I nudge her gently, “And I will tell you everything soon, okay? But not today, not this weekend. But soon,”  
“Because you fighting with your boyfriend?”  
“He is not my boyfriend,” I pick up my water bottle and head towards the door.  
“So, then you don’t care if I ask Captain for dinner? He nice,” I spin around, my heart in my throat, “Hah!” She grins triumphantly, “I knew it,”  
I choose to ignore her, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. Any argument I make in my defense would make it seem like I care. And I don’t.  
“I not ask him out, promise Tasha.”  
We get back to the common area, where Lucky is currently playing chase with Redwing, under Sam’s control. The kids are getting a kick out of it, watching as the uncoordinated puppy, whose paws are still too big for his body, tumble, and skid as he tries to catch the drone.  
Tony and Pepper have gone home to the cabin, though this weekend they will stay on the compound with the rest of us, while Bruce and Clint try to pick out a movie.  
They end up picking a Lifetime special, _The Unauthorized Avengers Story_. The reenactments are terrible, worse than The History Channel.  
“That doesn’t even look like me!” Clint argues, throwing popcorn at the TV.  
“At least the paint you in a favorable light,” I mumble, stealing the bowl from him. The femme fatale role is played up quite a bit, even for the Black Widow.  
“Well I don’t start off each mission with the Pledge of Allegiance,” Steve adds.  
“I don’t know, man, I think I have heard you say it in your sleep.”  
“That was one missions, Sam, one time.”  
I look over at Wanda and see her quietly observing everything, seeming genuinely happy for the first time in days. This boot camp, just a quick quip to try to distract Steve, seems to be doing a lot of good.  
“I think my portrayal is quite accurate,” Thor nods to the TV, “Though I don’t remember our time living in the tower being quite so exciting.”  
When the movie ends, we all begin to break up, heading to our respective suites. In mine, I change into pajamas, still bothered by Steve’s reaction to my teasing.  
“Maria stays in Sam’s room. I take hers,” Yelena announces, walking into my room. She picks up her bag, throwing it over her shoulder.  
“Is this because of this because of earlier? I’m sorry. I want to tell you everything. I just have to try,”  
“Only reason I stay in other room is because you up at ass-crack of dawn. I like to sleep late. Not mad at you, never mad at you. Except when you take my sleep.” Her eyes move down to my arms, “Do they hurt?”  
“Not anymore. Not as bad as the one on my calf.” I pull up my pantleg, exposing the large scar, thick scar. It is still bright pink, while the others have faded to the color of my skin.  
“I see you, at farm, when they ask for fire.” I curl my toes in my slippers. “Not from this,” she gestures to the scars, “From car, from Porsche?”  
“I can compartmentalize. It doesn’t stop me from doing my job. I know how to turn off.”  
“That is not healthy,”  
“No shit.” She gives me a sad smile, one dripping with pity. I clench my jaw, trying not to yell at her.  
“I work with Tony tomorrow, designing uniform, while you in city.” She changes the subject at breakneck speed. Yelena is not naturally very subtle.  
“You don’t want to come?”  
“You have time alone in girls’ day. I need to get to know team.” She awkwardly tries to hug me, “Okay, this not our thing,” Her laugh fills the room. “I try but is weird, unnatural. I love you without hugs.”  
“I love you too. And I’m glad you’re here, really.”  
I go over the schedule for the bootcamp in a shared document with Steve. He adds _Run w/ Nat_ to tomorrow morning, and I add my initials, approving.  
After spending a few hours on Bengali, which I have nearly perfected, it is nearly two o’clock. I last checked on Wanda when I tucked her in at ten. I go through the recently added door connecting our rooms, and my heart stops.  
Wanda’s bed is empty. The sheets and blankets are pushed to the foot of the bed, like she got up in a hurry. She isn’t in her bathroom. Or the kitchen. Or the common room. Then I check the gym. Archives. My office.  
“Friday, where is Wanda?” I ask the AI, unable to keep the panic out of my voice.  
“Miss Maximoff is in the pool,” The robotic voice replies. I race down the hallways, turning left and right until I burst into the glass room.  
It is warm and steamy, and smells strongly of chlorine. I quickly zero in on Wanda, doing the front crawl in the pool. My relief is almost tangible. The sound of sputtering and choking fills my ears. I jump into the water without thinking, diving towards her, pulling her up out of the water. I stand in the water, my heart thumping as I pat her back, she coughs, but gives me a thumbs up.  
“You scared the hell out me!” I scold, when she has finally recovered.  
“You? You scared me! Do you know how loud you were panicking? It made me gasp underwater,” She takes heavy breaths, leaning over. I go over to towels, grabbing one for each of us.  
“I was terrified. I went to check on you and you weren’t there. I thought something happened to you,”  
“It is early,”  
“It is two o’clock,”  
“Sorry, I guess I lost track of time.” She pulls the towel tighter.  
“What are you even doing swimming this late?”  
“I couldn’t sleep.”  
“You looked exhausted during the movie,”  
“No I mean I could sleep, but I shouldn’t,” I wait for her to explain, “It’s just, remember at Tony and Pepper’s wedding? I woke up the whole house. And I didn’t want to do that here. It’s different when it is just you, me, and Steve here. But this is everyone,”  
“No one would blame you, love.” I rub her shoulders, drying her off.  
“They should,”  
“So was your plan to just not sleep this whole weekend?”  
“You’ve done it,”  
“I am not the best role model when it comes to healthy sleep habits. I think the handcuffs prove that,” She takes a sharp breath, and I think I have gone too far. “I have an idea, what if you sleep with me?”  
“Isn’t Yelena staying with you?” She still has a hint of jealousy in her voice that I now recognize.  
“No, she took Maria’s room. If you stay with me, will you go to sleep?” I am given a reluctant nod. “Good,” I stand up and go over to a nearby chaise where her crutches have been laid out, “Come on, let’s get to bed,”

Steve doesn’t talk during our run, though I do manage to goad him into a race, and it seems to break some of the unspoken tension between us. We near the end of our route, and he slows to a jog.  
“You’re not getting old on me, right?” I turn back to him, hands on my hips. He smiles, soft, and I feel that flutter that is starting to become familiar, “What are you looking at?” I look back in the direction of our run, east. “It is a beautiful sunrise,” I agree. The sun is peeking out from behind the trees, and its rays bounce off the frozen surface of the pond. During our run, the sky had transformed from a hazy pink to blue, and the temperature has begun to creep up from the teens.  
“Natasha,”  
“I know, we should get going. Everyone else will be up soon,” I flash him a grin, “I’ll race you,”  
We both break into a sprint, hurdling ourselves through snowdrifts, completely ignoring the trails in an effort to reach the residential quarters first. Steve pulls open the slider and I dive forward. Our entrance is less than graceful, both of us stumbling in over the threshold.  
“Who won?” I ask Clint as he watches on with a cup of coffee.  
“I’d say it was a tie,” His eyes twinkle in amusement. “Our fearless leaders,” He raises his mug.  
“You’re supposed to say me, I’m you best friend,” I call out after him as he heads back towards his suite. We pass a mirror, and I see why Clint was trying so hard not to laugh. We are both covered in snow, and our cheeks are flush from the run and the cold. Our hair sticks up in nine different directions from the wind. Some snow has stuck to Steve’s eyebrows, and to my ponytail. “Coffee?” I ask.  
“Hot shower, then coffee,” Steve hurries off. I pour myself a mug, and him, while I raid the fridge to figure out breakfast for Wanda.  
“You look like you slept in wind tunnel,”  
“What happened to sleeping late?”  
“Get me on your awful schedule.” She looks at the mug of coffee on the table, clearly waiting for Steve as it the Captain America mug, I bought him. It is just a plain flag mug until heat is added- then it becomes a snapshot of Steve’s face in one of those detention videos he made. I didn’t buy the mug, I had it made.  
“You make up with your boyfriend?”  
“I’ll cut out your tongue,” I warn her. She puts up her hands in defense. “I’m going to go take a shower.”  
By nine o’clock, Laura and I are trying to rush the girls out the door so Lila isn’t late for her appointment.  
“Natasha, can I talk to you?” Bruce appears in the doorway.  
“Can it wait?”  
“It is kind of important,” He rubs the back of his neck.  
“Will people die if you don’t tell me right now?” I shift Nicole’s carrier from one arm to the other.  
“No,”  
“Then you can tell me later. Lila has a doctor’s appointment,” I hurry outside where the SUV is running. What the hell is with everyone trying to talk to me lately?  
I buckle in the carrier just as Laura comes out the door with Lila and Wanda. Lila has a bagel in hand, and Wanda a large to-go mug of coffee.  
We reach the city just in time for the eleven o’clock appointment. Wanda and I sit in the waiting room with Nicole, and she picks up a gossip magazine.  
“Why do you torture yourself with those?”  
“Aren’t you curious?” She holds up the magazine. “I want to know which movie star I am currently dating,”  
She is in a much better place than she was last night, and her sleep was mostly sound. Though I know both of us are looking forward to going home.  
Lila put on a brave face as we drove in, and even while we sat in the waiting room, but as soon as they called her name, the façade broke, and she erupted into tears. Laura tried desperately to calm her down, assuring her it was just a consultation. Eventually, Lila calmed down enough to walk in on her own.  
After nearly an hour, the pair return. Lila has a Scarlet Witch sticker on her shirt, and hands Wanda a Black Widow one. Wanda gives her a bright smile, sticking it right on her chest.  
We take the female Barton’s to our favorite restaurant, the Italian one. Our usual table has another shoved against it to make room for all of us.  
“Dad is going to take me to his firing range,” Lila informs us, “Last time we were here, I was too little, but he says I’m old enough now.”  
“I’m sure you will be excellent,” I tear off a piece of bread.  
“And then you can teach me how to shoot a gun,” Laura chokes on her drink.  
“No. Not until you’re twelve. That’s the rule.” Lila shrugs, clearly not too miffed.  
“I am going to be the next Hawkeye.”  
“I thought you wanted to be a ballerina,” Wanda cuts in.  
“When I was six. Wanda, I am almost seven now. I’m not a baby anymore.”  
It has been ages since we Lila had been this chatty, her hands moving a mile a minute. When the foot comes, Laura has to force her to stop and eat, much like before when she would not stop talking at dinner, her food going untouched.  
After lunch, Lila asks to see our apartment. She proclaims that Wanda is just like Eloise, especially after meeting our doorman, Albert. She ends up taking a quick nap in Wanda’s room, as does Nicole, before we head back to the compound. Lila’s improvement is remarkable, and I attribute much of it to her own stubbornness and conviction.  
Wanda’s leg bounces up and down in the back, hitting my seat. I don’t know who she is more nervous to see- Visions or Peter.  
We get off the exit and head towards the compound, and Wanda’s knee starts to bounce faster, and I can only imagine the state of her cheeks that she bites when she tends to get nervous. Or wringing her hands raw. We pull to a stop at the front door and climb out. A town car pulls up behind us, with Happy at the helm.  
“Hi guys!” Peter hops out, “I tried to get Happy to race you but he was not interested.”   
“Happy just knows he’d lose,” I shoot the head of security a smile and he gives me a quick nod. Progress, I suppose.  
We head inside and almost everyone has congregated into the common room. Happy has already left, heading back down to the city. Tony has been spreading a rumor that he is dating Peter’s aunt, though it is not much of a rumor considering I found out a month ago.  
“Natasha,” Bruce corners me in front of the fridge as I grab a juice, “I really need to talk to you. It’s important,”  
“Okay, okay.” I sigh, trying to imagine what this could be about.  
“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” He looks around, twenty people just feet away.  
“All right everyone,” Steve announces, “Now that we are all here, Avengers: assemble- into the conference room.”   
“Sorry, later,” I promise Bruce. Steve is staring at us, his jaw tight. What that is about, I don’t know. We weren’t late coming back from the city, in fact, we were fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.  
In the conference room, the table quickly fills up with our teammates. Steve put two baskets of pastries on the table, and the are quickly ravaged.  
“Savages, all of you,” Tony scolds. I notice Vision for the first time, and that Wanda is trying extremely hard not to look in his direction, but also avoiding looking at Peter, who is on the opposite side. Steve and I stand at the front of the room, waiting for everyone to settle in.  
“Okay, everyone. Welcome to our first boot camp. For the next seventy-two hours, we are going to eat, breathe, and sleep training. A special thanks to Natasha for coming up with this idea and coordinating a weekend where we were all available so quickly. And we would like to welcome Yelena as the newest member of our team. We’re thrilled to have you with us. Now, I’d like to pass it over to Nat,” Steve takes a seat. This was not part of the plan. He was supposed to introduce everything.  
“Thank you, Cap, for that lovely introduction.” I flash him a charming and biting smile, “I do not want to spoil the whole weekend, but tonight we will be starting off with something fun to warm everyone up: A game of capture the flag, followed by a spaghetti dinner.” The team quickly breaks off into chatter. “Tony has been developing a new training tool in the basement that we will be using a few times this weekend. It is a terrain simulator that Steve and I have programmed, actually, Steve has watched me program, for the events we have planned. We are going to break off into teams and I will meet you all down there to go over rules.”  
In the basement, we pull names out of a hat to select teams. On one side is me, Wanda, Thor, Rhodey, and Sam. While the other is Vision, Steve, Clint, Tony, Yelena, and Peter. Bruce and Maria have both opted out, choosing to be referees.  
The terrain simulator is simple enough. We programmed in obstacles for different events. Tonight’s even has multiple barriers scattered throughout a space the size of a football field.  
“I just want to confirm before we start, that no one has an actual combat weapon. Training weapons only,”  
“You are all killjoys,” Yelena pouts, but she makes no move to get rid of a weapon. I trust then that she had figured as much ahead of time. Maria blows a whistle and we break off. All our fighting styles come through rather quickly, as well as preferred sparring partners. Thor and Vision pair off, while Tony and Rhodey do. Sam is up against Peter, while Steve seems to be strategizing. I quickly lose sight of Yelena and see Wanda pouting.  
“What’s wrong?” I jog over to her.  
“I could finish this in a second, it is too easy.”  
“Then do it.”  
“But won’t it ruin everyone’s fun?” She watches as Sam and Peter taunt each other.  
“Then we restart. Show off, Little Witch,” I tug her braid.  
Her eyes begin to glow red and I see her powers begin to flow through her. It had been ages since I had seen her in battle, using her powers to the best of her abilities. Even now, I think she may be holding back. She hovers a few feet off the ground, and everyone and everything in the middle of the battlefield is shoved aside. The metal barriers screech with the movement, and everyone shouts in surprise as they are gently shoved aside. The flag whistles through the air, landing a second later in her hand. She floats back down to the ground, the tail of her coat flowing behind her. With a flick of her hand, all of the barriers fly back into place. I try not to appear slack jawed at the display.  
“That’s my girl,” I squeeze her shoulder. The rest of the team stare at her with the aforementioned expression that I tried to hide. My shy girl blushes bright red, ducking her head.  
“Holy shit, Wanda,” Clint gapes at his niece.  
“That was remarkable, Wanda,” Thor compliments.  
We set up again, this time with Wanda limiting herself, and once again begin the game. After two more rounds, Team Widow, as Wanda called us, wins 2-1.  
“Yelena, I told you our strategy,” Steve groans.  
“I answer to no one but Tasha,” She huffs, “Was in my contract.”  
“You didn’t sign a contract,” Maria calls out.  
“Fine, verbal agreement. You happy, bureaucrat?” Yelena turns back to Steve, “Sorry, Captain, you not earn right to order me around.”  
“Well, I think we can all agree who was the MVP of Capture the Flag,” Steve changes directions, seeing himself getting nowhere with Yelena right now.  
He presents Wanda with the dorkiest little trophy I have ever seen. I don’t even remember approving giving out awards, but Wanda lights up holding the gold plastic.  
We all crowd around the dining table with the spaghetti dinner. Pepper and the Barton’s join us. The room is loud and boisterous, full of life. Peter is telling a story about slinging off the Empire State Building while Tony becomes increasingly horrified. Thor recounts his time in Australia with Jane, and the magnificent creature called a _koala bear_. Rhodey’s stories, as always, fall flat.  
“You know, when I’m not with you guys, I’m actually considered cool,”  
“I get it, trust me,” Sam comforts his friend. We finally get to hear about the disastrous Christmas that Maria and Sam had, including getting caught not being at either family’s house. Tony and Peter even invite Cooper down to the lab before our nine o’clock start tomorrow.  
“Anyone else want anything to drink?” I ask, getting up for more wine. I get two yeses and make my way towards the kitchen.  
As I am pouring the third glass, I see a figure out of the corner of my eye. Bruce. He is nothing if not persistent.  
“What?” I sigh.  
“I really need to talk to you in private.”  
“We are in the middle of dinner.”  
“After dinner then,” He shoves his hands in his pockets. There are a thousand conversations I don’t want to have with him. There is so much that went unsaid between us. Both of us use the other. Worse yet, he wanted to abandon the team, the planet, during Ultron. And I don’t think I can ever forgive him.  
“Listen, Bruce,” I begin.  
“It is about Yelena.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! And this cliffhanger! It has been sooo long since I had one! Also, this work just hit 10,000 hits and is my first fic to even come close to that!! Thank you!!  
> As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!!
> 
> (Also, sorry for any errors, I am exhausted and wanted to get this out as soon as I finished. Any mistakes will be fixed in the next few days)
> 
> I hope to have the next chapter out soon!! Thank you again and have a great weekend!!


	32. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! A mini chapter! I actually can't believe this used to be the length of all my chapters, only about 2,000-2,500 words, most chapters clock in at about 5,000-7,000 words now. But I want the rest of bootcamp to be from Wanda's POV and needed to address the cliffhanger- so here it is! Enjoy!

“Seriously? Whatever she said or did to you, it can wait until after dinner,” I huff. “Did now seem like the appropriate time?” The scientist shrinks under my glare.  
“Will you just come down to the lab after dinner? Please?”  
“Fine.” I acquiesce, opting to just grab the bottle of wine. Back in the dining room, everyone is enjoying a story from Pepper about Tony insisting that the crib for Baby-Stark has to be strong enough to hold him.  
“I mean, you’re not that much taller than a baby, Tony,” Clint teases. The inventor chucks a roll at his head. Steve’s eyes follow Bruce and I as we exit the kitchen. I take my seat between Lila and Wanda, the later is watching the happy antics with radiant warmth. Perhaps, just because she is too shy to talk at team dinners doesn’t mean anything. Is it bad that I sequester the two of us at our Upper Eastside apartment? Should I be giving her this more often?  
Laura and Clint tag team translating for Lila, as the two of them and Wanda and I are the only ones fluent in sign. I look over at Yelena, and she is enrapt listening to Maria talk about a meeting she had with policy advisors.  
After dinner and dishes, I go down the lab to find Bruce. His relief at seeing me seems conflicted, and I begin to wonder what it is exactly Yelena said to him.  
“I am sorry if Yelena gave you are hard time about our past,” Calling it a relationship is not quite accurate. “She can be a lot sometimes, but her heart is in the right place.”  
“This has nothing to do with something she said,” Bruce goes over to his desk.  
“Then what could it be about?”  
“The point of that mission in the first place. I have been analyzing the data and reading through the journals kept by the scientists.”  
In all the excitement in having my sister back, I had completely forgotten about the mission. My mind races as I try to figure out what Yelena has to do with the paralytic used on Steve.  
Bruce hands me a leatherbound notebook filled with scribbled German notes, with Russian in the margins. He has one page bookmarked. I flip to it. There is a design of a bullet. A soviet slug, no rifling.  
“What is this?” I flick my eyes up.  
“Read the notes, Natasha.”  
The words jump out at me and I taste stomach acid. This can’t be true. No. This isn’t possible.  
My hand drifts to the scar on my abdomen. She had nothing to do with that. She can’t have. No.  
The door to the lab opens and Steve struts in, clearly in commander mode. Bruce gives him a nod, and I do my best to give him a smile but fail.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Bruce found the source of that drug,” I explain.  
“Those seem like results you would share with the team,” Steve glances at him, suspicious. “Or at least call us both in.” I pass Steve the notebook, open to offending page.  
“I think I need some air.”  
I walk stiffly out of the room before breaking into a sprint, running to the nearest service stairs and up onto the roof. The frigid air burns my lungs in the best way possible. My feet crunch under the frozen over snow, and I rip off the cover of a nearby vent, the screws popping off. Inside is one of my many emergency stashes hidden through out the compound.  
The vodka hits my tongue and I instantly know that it is not what I am searching for. I resist the urge to scream into the night. It isn’t fair. None of this is fair.  
“Hey,” He is the last person I want to talk to right now. Not this. Not bringing his Bucky up again.  
“Go away, Steve.” I cross my arms.  
“I’m glad you’re wearing shoes this time.”  
“I don’t want to talk to you about this.”  
“Did you tear off the vent cover?” He picks up on of the stripped screws from the snow. “I have never actually seen you use your super strength,”  
“I’m pretty sure you feel it every time we spar,”  
“I mean like this,”  
“I didn’t have the patience to unscrew it with my knife,” I place the bottle back in, and rest the broken screen over it. “She can’t be the reason I have this constant reminder on my body.”  
“She isn’t.”  
“Yes. She is.”  
“No, Tash. Yelena didn’t shoot you, she didn’t fire the gun. She didn’t even consent to having her blood taken.”  
“They used her as a blood bag for years. We don’t even know how many weapons are out there.”  
The scientists figured out a way to isolate the serum in her blood. In an effort to recreate the serum, they instead created something of the opposite effect. It renders the serum running through our veins completely useless. I can still feel the searing pain as the bullet goes straight through me. It felt like I was breaking apart from the inside, like I was falling apart on a cellular level. I had told Clint I finally felt what I gunshot really feels like, but that isn’t what it was. That was my serum, burning up inside of me.  
“This is all my fault. If she knew that I have this scar because of her, Steve she would never forgive herself. If I had been better, I could have kept her safe. It was my job to keep her safe, and I failed.”  
“It is not your fault, anymore than it is mine that,” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. I told him Bucky wasn’t his fault. And it’s not. But this is different. “If you sit with this guilt, it will eat you alive. Or cause you to do something stupid like crashing a plane in the arctic.” He takes off his sweater and offers it to me, so he is only in a button down.  
“You’ll be freezing,” I mumble, taking it.  
“I’d rather you be warm,” He gives me a Steve smile, not a Captain America one, and I pull the cable knit over my head. I swim in it. “I’m pretty sure you wear my clothes more than I do. How did that happen?”  
“It was when we were living together. It was just after Clint’s visit,” He looks at me like he wasn’t expecting a real answer. I stop, feeling embarrassed. It was a rhetorical question.  
“I’d like to hear the rest,” he says gently as we make our way back towards the stairs.  
“I was in a lot of pain; we were having a heatwave and all my clothes felt too tight against my skin. I was changing over the laundry and saw your clothes in the dryer, so I took them. They helped, a lot. After that, I think it just became habit.”  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed,”  
“You didn’t. I wanted to tell you.” He pulls open the door and we step inside and hit the wall of heat. My thoughts quickly drift back to Yelena. “Can we not tell her? Or anyone?”  
“If that’s what you want.”  
“No, this affects you too. It should be a mutual decision.”  
“I’ll tell Bruce to seal it, okay? It wouldn’t do anyone any good, and it would hurt the team’s trust in her, even though it wasn’t her fault.” We walks in silence for a little while longer, until we near the residential wing, “So, this might not be the best time to ask,” I turn to him.  
“Ask,”  
“Are you and Bruce getting back together?”  
“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”  
“Just wondering,”  
“Are you trying to set me up with him or something?”  
“No, no! Nope.” He shakes his head rapidly. I tilt mine, trying to figure out the reaction, but quickly give up.  
“Okay, you weirdo, come on. I’m sure the team is in a big argument about the movie for tonight. Someone needs to keep them in check.”   
After _Hercules_ , picked so that the kids could watch with us, we break off into our rooms for the night. I hum one of the songs quietly as I put away the clean clothes sitting on my bed. One thing I definitely miss about living here is the laundry service. I pass my full-length mirror and pause. I still wear Steve’s sweater, and it goes almost to my knees. I gather the hem and pull it up, along with my shirt, revealing my scar. The front doesn’t look nearly as bad as the back, but thankfully, I don’t see that very often.  
I hear Yelena approach, and drop the sweater, but not fast enough. Her eyes move to where the scar was on display moments ago.  
“Is that from Odessa?” She sits down on my bed, crisscrossing her legs, elbows resting on her knees. When she sits like this, it reminds me of our sessions in the courtyard of the Red Room, during our one free hour a day. I can see myself reaching forward to fix her pinafore as it slides off her shoulder. “From Winter Soldier?”  
“Yes,” I reply, not offering up additional information.  
“Scar should be gone.”  
“They weren’t normal bullets.” I pull off Steve’s sweater, folding it carefully and putting it on top of my dresser to give back to him tomorrow. “Did you have fun meeting the rest of the team?” I ask, changing the subject.  
“Yes. I meet Thor, Vision, and Peter. Thor let me squeeze his biceps.”  
“Leave the guy alone, Lena. He is too nice for you and has been with the same woman for seven years. She is an astrophysicist.”  
“You are all no fun,” She falls back on the bed. “But Vision, he Wanda’s ex, da?”  
“They dated for almost two years, kind of. They didn’t see each other very often.”  
“Clint call him microwave. So, he robot?”  
“Android,” I correct. Wanda comes into the room, changed into her pajamas. She hesitates when she sees Yelena. “You’re still staying in here, love. Don’t worry,”  
Her cheeks redden with embarrassment. But Yelena seems to think nothing of it. She continues to pepper me with questions about the team and everyone’s abilities.  
“So, leaders.” Wanda perks up from her spot on my couch. “Is Fury, you, and Steve?”  
“Fury and Steve, then everyone else,”  
“Not true,” Wanda corrects, pausing the massage she is giving her residual limb. “I have been thinking about this. It is like Fury on top, then Nat and Steve equal. After that is Tony, Clint, Bruce, and Thor. Then the rest of us on the bottom.”  
“That’s not true.”  
“Ask anyone else on the team, and they would probably give the same rankings,” Yelena nods, in thought, and then I see her eyes land on Wanda’s leg. There is one scar that is obviously much newer than the others. We are not doing this tonight.  
“Goodnight, Lena.”  
“You kicking me out, Big Sister?” She jests, jumping up. “I take poll from team tomorrow and let you know results of hierarchy. I have feeling your witch is right.”  
Yelena heads out, down the hall to her temporary room until hers is ready. Wanda hops over to the bed, and she grins at the horror on my face.  
“You are such a helicopter mom,”  
“I can’t help it,” I step into my closet and return in my pajamas, lying down next to her. She rolls over to face me, smiling. “I was really proud of you today.”  
“Yeah?” She brightens even more.  
“Of course. You killed it in capture the flag. It was amazing. Everyone was so impressed. I of course knew you could do it, but somehow, I was still awed by you.” She shimmies under the covers. I go over to my bookcase and grab two, handing one to her.  
“Thank you for putting this together. I’m happy we got to see everyone.”  
“Me too,” I crawl under the comforter.  
“Is everything okay with Bruce? You guys talked a lot today,”  
“Fine, he just had some things to go over about the mission where you found Yelena,”  
“They might as well have been drugging her,” Wanda’s eyes take on a haunted look, “I saw in her memories, as I was helping Bruce put up the blocks. They used trigger words. It was like she wasn’t even there.” She bites her lip, “I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear that.”  
“No, you can always share with me. Anything,” I promise. Despite how much the topic upsets me, I am not about to dissuade her from finally opening up, even if it is just a little. I feel so much guilt for leaving Yelena there. For letting her suffer for so long. But she will never know that her blood almost killed me. I will never let her carry that burden.  
“None of what happened to her is your fault,” I look up at her eyes, searching for a hint of red, but they are perfectly blue. “We do our best, right?” She is biting her cheeks, and I try to figure out what she is blaming herself for in this moment.  
“We do our best,” I agree because that is what she needs to hear. Wanda nods, pulling the blankets up over her shoulders. “I love you, Little Witch,”  
“I love you too, Mom,” she breathes, already falling asleep. I still can’t believe, as I watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, that I have the privilege to be given such a title.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked this short chapter! I have so much planned for coming storylines. Nat's plot is all lined up and in order, but I am so torn on which one to go with for Wanda. I have two written, and have no idea which I am going to pick. I keep going back and forth. Sigh. Anywho, I hope to have a chapter of Volition up this week, I am feeling re-inspired. Thank you all for reading and I hope you had a great weekend!


	33. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay! Classes start this week, so things may slow down more, I’m not sure! I’ll know more by the end of the week
> 
> Enjoy! As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!

“Love, it’s time to get up,” I roll over, squinting at the bright sunlight. It had been a better night’s sleep than usual. I woke up only once, and my fears were quickly mitigated by Natasha’s presence. If she was comforting me, she wasn’t dead. “Breakfast in ten, then training.”  
“But sleep,” I argue, hugging a pillow closer.  
“If you miss breakfast, you’ll be complaining all day,” She rips the comforter off, and I am instantly chilly, and awake.  
“Fine,” I groan, sitting up. “Please save me some bacon before the vultures get it,”  
“Deal,” she kisses the top of my head and flies out of the room, the load on her shoulders seeming lighter than it has in weeks.  
I head back to my room and change into workout gear. In the common area, the table is already crowded with the team. There is shouting and jeering, all invariably happy. I take my place next to Natasha and see she has already served me a plate of eggs, bacon, and hash browns.  
Peter and Cooper run into the room, grinning, with Tony not far behind. The three had spent the morning in the lab, and Cooper is quickly telling his parents all about it in breathless excitement.  
“You’ve got a talented kid, Birdbrain,” I look over to Lila, who is trying to teach Thor sign language, it is going surprisingly well. Little Lila next to giant Thor is a sight to see.  
“I have job on Tuesday,”  
“What do you mean a job?” Natasha looks up at her sister.  
“Hit job, easy and quick,”  
“No.”  
“No?” Yelena raises her eyebrows and puts down her fork.  
“You are on the team now; you can’t do unsanctioned hits. If you want a job, ask Maria or Fury.” Yelena’s jaw tightens, and she looks as though she is about to argue with Natasha. But the elder sister holds her gaze unflinchingly, and I remember now why so many hold her in such high regard. She radiates power. Yelena gives a short nod, and casts a glare around the table, as if waiting for someone to tease her for being scolded by her sister. No one dares, of course.  
Breakfast finishes and we quickly clean up, I try to sidestep Peter, as yesterday I had done a spectacular job avoiding him, but it seems to be no use.  
“Wanda, can we talk?”  
“Not much to talk about,” I snap.  
“But,”  
“You tattled on me to my mom. We aren’t children, Peter.”  
“Yes, we are!” He groans. I ignore him, heading into the gym.  
Everyone begins to stretch and do light warmups. Steve and Nat spar lightly to get their blood flowing, while I sit next to Clint as we help each other stretch.  
“You okay?”  
“Fine.” I huff.  
“Peter seems pretty upset,” I ignore him, reaching to touch my toes, “Whatever is going on between the two of you, I know his heart was in the right place. Kid doesn’t have a mean bone in his body,” I pinch my lips, ignoring the senior team member.  
Nat and Steve stop sparring, both glowing from the action. She nudges him playfully, and they walk over to stand in front of the group.  
“Okay everyone, we are going to draw names for sparring partners. Please no life-threatening injuries, this is supposed to be good, clean fun,” Steve claps his hands together, “Let’s get started,”  
Tony throws Steve across the gym. The super soldier jumps up, charging at Iron man. The two lock in battle, Steve using his shield on the offensive. The timer buzzes.  
“There wasn’t even a winner!” Tony exclaims, his faceplate sliding up.  
“We are on a schedule, Stark. It isn’t my fault that your suit couldn’t defeat the man with a plan,” Natasha drawls, restarting the clock. She reaches into a bowl, pulling out two names.  
The sparring sessions continue, with Nat and Steve pointing out places for improvement. At one point, her and Clint duke it out, but both of them end up laughing so hard, they have to stop.  
“How to defeat the Black Widow,” Clint boasts, “Really bad puns,” Natasha shoves him and tosses over a Gatorade.  
I beat Vision in a sparring match, which no one was expecting, even me. After helping the android up, he gives me a smile and congratulations. Somehow, our interaction is not as awkward as I imagined it would be. It gives me hope for my conversation with Peter.  
I find him after sparring ends in the lab. Tony and Cooper are no where in sight, which makes this much easier.  
“Hi,” I step into the glass room.  
“Hey,” He puts down his smelting tools, looking over at me.  
“Sorry I have been avoiding you,”  
“And ignoring my texts,” he adds.  
“Right.” I shove my hands in my pockets. I wait for him to say something else. To apologize. “I don’t like fighting with you.”  
“I don’t like fighting with you either,” He sighs, taking off his goggles. Finally, it seems, engaging in this attempt at a conversation. “I was just trying to keep you safe,”  
“I don’t need to be protected,” I curl my lip.  
“You were being reckless and immature,” he gets up from his seat, heading over to a cabinet where he begins to search through bins.  
“Me? You’re the one who still plays with Legos and thought they could fight crime in New York _alone_!”  
“I don’t play with them; it is building models. And I don’t do that anymore. I joined a team. In case you haven’t noticed; you seem pretty keen on keeping to yourself. You never talk to anyone,” Peter slams the cabinet shut. “You could at least say something at dinner. Are you just so above all of us, the great and powerful Scarlet Witch, that you think you don’t have to interact?”  
“Peter,” I feel my heart crack.  
“And you’re so angry all the time!” He spins around, glaring at me.  
“I can’t help it,” My voice wavers.  
“Can’t help what?” Peter looks at me with guarded caution.  
“Being angry all the time, and I don’t mean to not talk with the team, I’m sorry,” Peter’s anger instantly melts off his face.  
“Wanda, I didn’t mean, I wasn’t thinking. Well, I was thinking, that was the problem,” I back up towards the door, stumbling slightly, but catching myself.  
The hallway is thankfully deserted, and I hurry through, wanting to get as far away as possible. I hear Peter calling after me, but do not turn around. Instead, my powers begin to search for Natasha.  
I find her in the basement, working on the simulator.  
“You’re spoiling the surprise,” she teases, not looking up from the tablet attached to the devises control panel.  
“That’s okay,” I head over towards her. She pauses her task, eyebrows knitting together.  
“What’s wrong?” She does a quick lookover my body, likely checking for injuring from the sparring matches earlier.  
I shrug, opting instead to sit in the free stool next to her. She allows me this silence, going back to work.  
“Do you think I come off as aloof?” I ask quiet, but my voice seems to echo and carry in the cavernous space.  
“Of course not. What would make you think that?” She turns off the monitor this time, ending her work. I shrug again, tugging on my fingers. “Wanda,”  
“I read it online,” I lie, “That I’m standoffish and terrible to be around. Basically, just an awful person.” It is obvious she doesn’t believe me about the source but keeps up with the ruse.  
“Well, whoever said that clearly does not know you like I do.”  
“But what if they do know me really well? And it is just another person who is going to leave, and another person,”  
The heavy metal doors to the room swing open, banging against the walls. Peter is out of breath, looking around wildly.  
“Thank God,” He jogs over. An arm wraps around me protectively. “I was looking for you,”  
“You weren’t done?” I look up at him, tears still wet on my cheeks.  
“I didn’t mean to,”  
“I think you should go upstairs, Peter.” Natasha’s voice is cold, deadly. He doesn’t move, despite the fear the flickers across his face.  
“Ms. Romanoff, Wanda, I didn’t, I would never say those things,” He promises.  
“I heard you!” I argue, breaking free of my mother’s grasp. Peter jumps back as I approach him, my hands glowing.  
“No, I didn’t say them! Not out loud,” He ducks his head, “It was completely my fault, not yours! I mean I directed the thoughts at you, I guess. I kind of forgot that you could hear them. I’m so sorry,” The door opens once more, Steve walking in. Natasha runs over the soldier, pulling him out of the room.  
“You still thought them,” I accuse weakly. “They weren’t wrong, but,”  
“It’s not true, any of it. I was just being mean because I was hurt. But could never say any of that to you, not matter how mad I am.”  
“I am angry all the time.”  
“You have a right to be,”  
“I have been working on it, a lot. I thought I was doing better, but I guess not considering how awful I have been to you.” I scuff my shoe.  
“I can’t apologize for telling Nat. You could have been hurt, and I would have never been able to live with myself. But I am sorry for what I thought. You’re a good person and I know you don’t think you’re above everyone on the team.” I nod, biting my cheek. As if I could ever think of myself better than any of them. These inherently good people. People who haven’t assisted in genocide. Tried to destroy the world. They aren’t a ticking time bomb. They don’t have to constantly worry about killing those they care about. “So, are we good?” Peter asks, almost sounding desperate. I nod stiffly.  
“Yeah. We’re good.” He grins at me. But I still feel the truth behind his thoughts. If there is anywhere someone is honest, it is in their own head.  
Lunch is just a cold cut spread with an assortment of breads. I pick at my sandwich halfheartedly, trying to be a more active participant in the lunch conversation. But I find myself getting anxious, fingertips starting to glow, and quickly give up.  
Natasha is glaring at Peter from across the table, stabbing at her potato salad. Peter visibly gulps.  
_Nat, stop. We talked._ Natasha turns to me and gives a reluctant nod. Yelena, nearly as observant as her sister, watches the exchange.  
I can’t blame Peter. I can’t blame someone for seeing the truth.  
The last event for the day is an obstacle course. Natasha and Steve designed it, and it is horrible. Climbing, crawling, running, weaving. By the end, we are all exhausted and massaging our sore muscles.  
But Natasha and Yelena are challenging each other to another round, trying to see who can best the other.  
“Best two of three!” Yelena demands as Natasha wins by a second.  
“I think you mean best three of five,” Clint calls from his spot, sprawled out on the floor.  
“I run against you and you left in dust,” she retorts.  
“You have more than proven yourself to the team,” Steve assures. Yelena doesn’t seem to care what Steve thinks, looking back to Natasha.  
“We already made the announcement, there’s no taking it back,”

After dinner, everyone goes their separate ways until it is time for the movie at eight. I had joined Clint, Sam, and Tony for a game of billiards, and now head back to the common area. Rhodey joins from the kitchen. Natasha and Steve are sitting together on the couch, Natasha’s legs draped over Steve’s lap. One has a book, the other a newspaper. They look so much like a couple; it is painfully obvious.  
“Well someone is getting cozy,” Tony retorts, smirking. Natasha seems to suddenly realize the position in which she is lounging, and instantly swings her legs over, shifting away from Steve. The idea of killing Tony is sounding a little too sweet right now.  
Natasha refuses to look up from her book as the sectional fills up, and I see Steve shooting Tony daggers.  
We sit on the couch, waiting for Laura to come out with the kids. Friday told us five minutes, as Laura requests Clint’s assistance with the Hawklings.  
“Have you seen what Ross has been tweeting?” Tony asks, holding up his phone, “Ridiculous. Why does Ellis keep him around?”  
“Ross gets Ellis a lot of support in Congress. He has a lot of connections.”  
“Bullshit,” Tony spits. I unlock my phone to look at the tweets. Making claims that the monitoring of enhanced individuals needs to be increased. “Don’t worry, Wands. This isn’t about you. You’re already the most monitored enhanced in the world.” My mouth goes dry.  
“Tony, I think you’ve used up your wordcount for tonight,” Rhodes glares at his best friend. The Barton’s coming in, the children freshly showered and in their PJs. Lila grabs my hand and pulls me to the ground to watch the movie with her from the floor.  
Young Shia LaBeouf sports an orange jumpsuit while a female killer seals each victim’s fate with a kiss. Yelena’s thoughts echo in my head, in Russian like last time. I turn around and shake my head at the woman. Comparing Nat to this film’s character would not go over well.  
More thoughts start to trickle in, until I feel like most of the team is speaking to me, along with the movie playing. Voices come from every direction. A gunshot goes off. I jump up, panicked, looking around. Someone asks Friday to pause the movie.  
“Wanda, are you okay?” Natasha asks, setting down her book.  
“G-gunshot,” I stutter, trying to speak over all the thoughts.  
“It was on the TV, surround sound,” I nod absentmindedly, focusing on blocking out all the voices. They are becoming jumbled, and I am unable to make out a single voice. It is like standing in a crowded hallway. I screw my eyes shut, trying to concentrate.  
A familiar hand slips into mine and soon we are in my bedroom. Natasha squeezes my hands, makes exaggerated breaths for me to match. Eventually, my breathing levels out, and I open my eyes once more.  
“There are those beautiful blues,” Natasha smiles at me, “Are you okay?”   
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,”  
“We kind of worked everyone to the bone today, you must be exhausted. And Tony shouldn’t have brought up Ross, and I know you had an argument with Peter,”  
“I’m fine now. I’m sorry for making a scene in front of the team.” I curl up on my side, “You can get back to the movie.”  
“I’ve seen it,” She lies down next to me. “Do you want to be alone or do you want me to stay?”  
“You’re almost always quiet,” I blink, she waits for me to explain, “Your thoughts. They don’t bleed out often. It doesn’t take work to block them out.”  
“Is that a good thing?” I nod. Her fingers brush my hairline, barely touching. “I am proud of you. No matter what anyone else says, you are good. You are loved,”  
Natasha stays in my room for the night. Neither of us get much sleep. She pretends not to be bothered by it, but how could she not be? I am exhausting, literally. Keeping her up for days on end.  
“Do you want to go shopping? Or maybe we can read a new book?” Natasha prompts.  
“Sure,” I agree, looking out at the street below. The snow has mostly melted at the temperature has crept up to thirty-eight today. Dirt-tinged slush is all that remains.  
We had returned home yesterday, Sunday, after the team breakfast. I felt acutely embarrassed by my reaction the night before. And everyone seemed intent on pretending the freak out never happened. But I force myself to be a better friend as well, answering Peter’s meme.  
“We are heading back out to the farm in a few weeks for Lila’s birthday. You will never believe what Clint has bought her,” I look up at Nat, my curiosity piqued, “A pony,”  
“He didn’t,” I laugh, imagining the girl’s reaction. She will be overcome with excitement. She will also probably master horseback riding within a month.  
“When we come out, we’re all going to head out to a ranch on the edge of town. Clint has this whole thing planned. We’ll go horseback riding and Lila will have no idea until the end.”  
“I’ve never ridden a horse,” I admit.  
“Don’t worry, love. They’ll take is slow.”  
Regretfully, having been home now, I am feeling better. Guilt floods me, knowing that being around the team could cause me anxiety. But Natasha seems happy to be home as well. Aside from when we were training. She never looks more at home than in the middle of a sparring session. Her phone pings and she steps out of the room.  
A moment later, she returns with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I think we are going to have to take a raincheck on our afternoon,” She goes over to my bed and straightens the pillows, “Steve got some intel that he needs a second set of eyes on. I will be home in a few hours,” She kisses the top of my head, “Unless you want to come?”  
“No, I’ll stay here,” She nods.  
“Yelena is here too, maybe you could go to the movies,” I shrug noncommittedly.  
The small blonde barges into my room ten minutes later. She has none of the gentle grace the Natasha possesses.  
“We are going out.”  
“Nat just suggested it, we don’t actually have to,” I look back down to my math work.  
“Yes, well no longer suggestion. Come,” She pulls my desk chair, with me in it, over to my closet. The wheels squeak against the hardwood floor.  
Yelena begins to rifle through, and I don’t know if she is trying to pick out an outfit for herself or me. All my clothes would likely be too long on the petite Widow. She tosses me a pair of ripped black skinny jeans and a loose grey sweater.  
“You show me shops, I get this in mail from Stark,” She holds up a black credit card. “We make him faint at bill,” She flashes a dangerous smile.  
We exit Chanel’s Fifth Avenue store and Yelena looks pleased with herself. She also seems to take better to the fame than Natasha, waving flirtatiously to the paparazzi. Though there was no picture released with the press release, it is undoubtable that the world will now know her face.  
We sit down for lunch at The Polo Bar, and Yelena orders an extra-dry vodka martini. She tries to order me one as well, and I shyly ask the waiter for a Shirley Temple.  
“What is in Shirley Temple?”  
“Ginger ale and grenadine,”  
“You eighteen, live.” She shakes her head.  
“You don’t have to speak English if you don’t want to. I speak Russian, fluently.”  
“You speak English with Tasha,” That seems to be the end of the discussion for her. “They not focus on languages for me, less when they see I no good at honeypots. Not much of people pleaser. Of course, I pick up _some_ skills,” She winks at the passing waiter, who blushes.  
The server delivers our drinks, and Yelena orders a New York strip steak, and I the tuna tartar.  
“You know, first time coming to America, I come to New York. This was first stop, making my way across country. I went to Broadway show and had pizza.”  
“What did you see?” I ask, genuinely surprised, it explains the showtunes I heard her sing.  
“Lion King. Was good. Better than ballet and opera, all I see with Red Room. This was fun, not so serious.”  
“Have you seen any others?”  
“No. Few months later, we here,” She waves around the restaurant. It occurs to me how weird this must be. She saw the Lion King only a few weeks ago in her mind, but in reality, it has been a decade. “So next, we get tattoos, piercings?” I light up a little at the thought of a piercing, and Yelena catches it. “Oh, what you want? Tongue? Belly button?”  
“Second hole,” I touch my ear, and feel heat rise up in my chest.  
“Boring,”  
“I don’t think we should, Nat might get mad.” I play with my necklace that Natasha got me for my adoption.  
“You adult, don’t need her permission,” Yelena reminds me, “And like she say, easier to beg for forgiveness,”  
“Than ask for permission,” I finish.  
“You get it,” She laughs.  
It takes all my self-control for my powers not to come alive as the needle goes through my earlobe. By the way Yelena’s eyes widen, I can tell my eyes flashed red. She admires the diamond studs in my ears before sitting down to have her ears pierced for the first time.  
As usually happens after a long day of walking around, my pace has slowed considerably, and my gate is not as even. Yelena pretends not to notice, though she isn’t as good at acting as Natasha is. I feel a little guilty for comparing to her to her sister so frequently. It seems like they were compared a lot as children.  
“I have a question,” She looks over at me, “What do you know about the scar from the Winter Soldier?” She seems to have thought hard about this question before asking, evident through the phrasing. I try to figure out the motive but can only glean sisterly concern.  
“I know she almost died, and that is causes a lot of conflict between her and Steve.”  
“Anything else?” she probes as we near the apartment building.  
“He used to be Steve’s best friend, before he became the Winter Soldier. They were in a fight about it for a while over the summer. I think it is part of the reason why,” The Porsche pulls up beside us, window rolled down.  
“Hi you two,”  
“Tasha, your girl show me around city,” Yelena holds up her collection of shopping bags.  
“Jesus, Lena,” She laughs and climbs out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet with her signature warning glare, before turning to us. We greet Albert and head inside, stepping into the elevator.  
“What did you do today?”  
“Shopping, lunch, tattoos.” Yelena lists the items off on her fingers.  
“Tattoos?” Natasha chokes, “Excuse me? Yelena,”  
“Kidding. We got piercings. Not seem so bad after tattoos,” She gestures to her ears. Natasha looks to me. I lift back my hair, showing the tender puncture wounds.   
“Oh my God. The parlor,”  
“Intact,” I brag, a little proud.  
“Why didn’t you talk to me first? If you wanted, I could have come or,”  
“It was a spur of the moment decision,” I rush to explain, sensing Natasha’s hurt. “I know you would have taken me,”  
“They look beautiful,” she murmurs, leaning in.  
“If you want, you can come with me to get my eyebrow pierced,” Natasha’s smile disappears, and she seems to be trying very hard not to object. Yelena and I try to hold back out laughter.  
“Very funny. You are corrupting my daughter,” She accuses Yelena, half kidding.  
“Oh, that one all her idea. She funny. No wonder you keep her around.” I look down at my shoes, blushing at the compliment.  
“She’s mine, get your own,” Natasha teases, pulling me close.  
We head into the apartment and Yelena begins to present all of the clothes and accessories she bought.  
“Tasha, the card has no limit!” She exclaims, holding up a second designer purse. “I spend and spend,”  
“Tony is going to murder me,” Natasha leans back on the couch as her sister pulls on a shearling lined coat. But her eyes are filled with love and warmth.  
“How was your time with Steve? What did you do?”  
“Oh, he just had some stuff he wanted to go over. Data that came in, results from the bootcamp, things like that. We spared too,” she glances at me, “I invited him to dinner on Wednesday, I don’t know if he’ll come, but he said yes,”  
“What?” Yelena pauses her fashion show.  
“Well, he invited me to dinner on Wednesday, so I invited him down here for a family dinner,”   
“Tasha, you idiot!” Yelena exclaims, chucking a throw pillow at her sister’s head.  
“Do you not want him to come to dinner?” She looks between the two of us.  
“Captain ask you out on date and you invite daughter and sister along?” Yelena throws herself dramatically onto the couch, “You be the death of me yet, Big Sister.”  
“Don’t say that,” Natasha scolds, putting the throw pillow back on the armchair, “And it is not a date.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, “You are being so immature. I am going to take a shower and then order dinner. Try to pull yourself together before the delivery guy gets here,” There is a trace of amusement in her voice at her sister’s dramatics. I hear her bedroom door click shut. Yelena looks over at me in disbelief.  
“I know it was a date,” I shrug.  
“Was? Still is,” Yelena flashes a conspiratorial smile, and I wonder what I got myself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked this chapter! I usually try to give a general timeline for posting, but to be honest, I have no clue. It will be less than two weeks, I can promise that much! Please stay safe and healthy, and enjoy the start of your new school year, however it may look!  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (Also, Peter thought those things out of a moment of anger (and a bit of jealousy) I know it was a little OOC, but he never actually said them)


	34. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you are doing well and enjoying your weekend! Since my last post, I have hit 1,000 combined kudos, thank you all so much for reading!  
> Please enjoy!  
> Also, a new chapter of Volition has been posted as well- featuring Nat and Steve's ferry ride! 
> 
> As always comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!

When I come back out into the living room from showering, Yelena and Wanda are watching _Modern Family_. They pause the show at my arrival, and my sister grins at me.  
“What?”  
“I pick out something for you to wear on date,”  
“It is not a date,” I sigh, “We have dinner with Steve all the time,” Yelena goes over to her Chanel shopping bag and pulls out a slinky red dress. “I am not going to wear that,” I look down and realize my hands have subconsciously drifted to the scars on my arms, covered by a sweatshirt.  
“Right, you red head, wouldn’t look good.”  
“Why do you even care what I wear? It’ll probably be jeans or something,”  
“Tasha, you are the worst! Dress up for the man,” Yelena holds the dress up to herself, “Maybe I wear this,”  
“Tony is going to kill you when he gets that bill at the end of the month,”  
“I plan on it,” She drops the silk dress back into the back. Wanda has been curiously silent, not voicing a single opinion. I glance down at her on the couch.  
“I’m looking forward to him coming,” She looks up at me, feigning innocence. Yelena got her to join this stupid and pointless crusade. I pinch the bridge of my nose.  
“I have some work to get done in the library. Will one of you let me know when the food gets here?” They agree, and I head down the hall.  
The library is still my favorite room in the apartment. If I could spend all my time in here, I would. I pull open my laptop to see if Bruce sent me his newest notes from going through the journal.  
“Tasha,”  
“Food is here already?” I look up, pausing from typing my password. Yelena walks in and strolls over to the bookcase behind my desk, picking up the baseball I have on display, turning it over in her hands. “Please put that down,”  
“Your boyfriend signed it?”  
“It was a joke, just put it down,” I snap, taking it from her.  
“I am leaving.”  
“What?” My heart stops. “Why? Is it because you don’t have a bedroom here? Because I can make the gym smaller or get you something that isn’t a pullout couch. I am in negotiations with our downstairs neighbor, Ms. Bisset, to buy her place from her. It is smaller than ours, but I think it would work for you. Or if you don’t want to live in the city, I can get you a place in Connecticut, or by the compound,”  
“Jesus, I don’t think I have heard you say so many words since I come back front dead,” Yelena raises her eyebrows. “If you had let me finish, I say I am leaving on mission Friday, mission for Fury.”  
“Oh,” I nod, feeling embarrassed.  
“Happy to know you not want to get rid of me,” She sits down in my desk chair, spinning slowly, “I take Ms. Bisset apartment, if you get rid of cat smell.”  
“When were you in her apartment?” I am horrified. The lawsuits that we could face. An Avenger breaking and entering for no reason than to satisfy her curiosity.  
“I help her with groceries. Relax,”  
“How long will you be gone?”  
“Few days. Quick hit. I feel antsy,”  
“I get it,” That had been one of the reasons I went up to the compound today. I needed to spar, get rid of the build up of nervous energy. It had been so long since we have had a mission. But I can’t go searching for missions like I used to. Not until Wanda goes off to college. It wouldn’t be fair to her, and in all honesty, I would likely be distracted.  
“Food is here!” Wanda’s voice rings out.  
“Your girl has set of lungs on her.”  
The next morning, Yelena heads over to the Tower to go over some weapons and her new uniform with Tony.  
Wanda sits in her armchair with a cup of coffee, and I in mine. Her AP Calculus book is open in her lap as I read _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_. Her book snaps shut.  
“Want some help?”   
“I need a break,”  
“It is 9:05,” I remind her. We started at nine.  
“Do you think I could run through walls?”  
“What?” The question, so absurd, throws me for a loop. If anyone can ever surprise me, it is Wanda.  
“You know, like just run straight through them. I mean, they would be destroyed after. It isn’t like I could phase through them, but maybe with a forcefield out in front of me I could just,” She does a little poofing motion with her hands, sending out a little cloud of red.  
“We can try next time we are at the compound. I love you, but we are not testing it in our apartment.”  
“Obviously,” she snorts, “But like maybe we should start small, like drywall, before moving onto cement or something.” I think we are going to go back to schoolwork now, her curiosity satiated, but she continues to chat, speculating about her powers. “Do you think I have slowed aging?” I nearly drop my book. “Nat?” I had been avoiding this for months now, nearly a year. This question. This burden. She is going to hate me from hiding this from her.  
“Bruce thinks there is a strong possibility,” I admit, feeling sick to my stomach, “There is a simulation he can run, but he wouldn’t do it without your permission.”  
“Really?” She throws her textbook to the side, “Can you ask him to do it?”  
“You want to know?”  
“Yes, of course.” She bites her lower lip, “I have had this fear,” she confesses, shifting her seat, “That one day, a few years from now, that I would look older than you.”  
“I can ask Bruce to run the test, and we can get the results in a few days,” I pick her textbook up off the floor, “But it won’t change anything for us, no matter the results,” I promise. She nods, understand that there is a possibility that he life span is human, that she may leave sooner than she’d like. “Now, please finish your math so we can move onto history. I have a fun lesson planned.”   
“No,” she groans, sliding off the chair. Apparently, she has taken on some of Yelena’s flair for the dramatics. “A fun lesson means debate, and I always lose.” She pouts a little.  
“Well, maybe if we keep doing it, you’ll get better and stop losing.”  
“Yeah, like I am going to beat the Black Widow in a debate,” she rolls her eyes, she pulls herself back up into the chair, “I think instead, we should go for a run,”  
“You used that to get out of debating last time, not going to happen, Little Witch.”  
We break for lunch a few hours later, and Wanda takes a bite of her peanut butter sandwich.  
“So, have you worked everything out with Peter?” I place a glass of iced tea in front of her.  
“I talked to him this morning. We’re okay. I wasn’t really being fair to him,” She won’t meet my eyes, “I think maybe, I was mad at myself rather than him. But we’re supposed to go to the movies this weekend.”  
“I’m sure everything will be fine. Peter loves you. And no one else has the shared life experience of being a teenage Avenger.”  
“Not to change the topic but,” She looks up, her eyes sparkling, “Have you picked out where we are ordering from tomorrow night?”  
“Not you too,” I take her empty plate, putting it in the dishwasher.  
“Mom, you cannot be serious. It is obvious why he wanted to have dinner with you,”  
“Because he gets lonely at the compound. It is a big place to be by yourself.” I fold the nearby tea towel. “And I was thinking of cooking,”  
“So not only did you ruin the date by inviting me and Yelena, but you plan on poisoning us all as well.”  
“Fine, I’ll get a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, okay? Because it seems that pancakes aren’t good enough for you,” I tug her ponytail, eliciting a laugh.  
Yelena comes back when we finish school for the day, and the three of us hit the gym, followed by reading together on the couch. It is so perfect; I feel like everything should be falling apart. Like the universe is being too kind to grant me this day.  
Even when I go to check on Wanda around one o’clock, she is fast asleep, drool pooling on her pillow. I pull up her comforter tucking her in.  
“Love you,” she murmurs in her sleep, turning over.  
“I love you too, Little Witch,”

“Just pick out a chicken, Tasha. It isn’t that hard,” Yelena taps her foot impatiently as we stand in front of the warmer. Wanda appears, holding bags of frozen steamer vegetables. “They are all the same.” I glare at my sister, she is starting cause people to stare, and notice us. Yelena reaches forward, grabbing two and placing them in the cart. “There, we go now.”  
Reluctantly, I push the cart towards the cash registers. I can feel Wanda picking me apart, and she is about to ask questions. I shoot her a quick glare and she ducks her head, instead pretending to be interested in a magazine. In the bottom corner, there is a picture of Yelena blowing a kiss the paparazzi.  
“Really?” I begin to load up the belt, looking over at her.  
“What can I say? Camera loves me,”  
Back at the house, Wanda and Yelena offer to put away the groceries and insist I go to my bedroom to get ready. A date. They keep calling it a date. Is that what this was? Did I completely miss the obvious? But it isn’t possible. Steve would never want to go out with me. He does not love me like that. No one could ever really love me like that. But what if I’m wrong? What if this is a date? And I screwed it up. No. Not a date. Not a date. Not a date.  
“You okay?” The two of them stand in the doorway.  
“I don’t know what to wear,” My voice is meek.  
“I take care of,” Yelena heads over to my closet, while Wanda and I sit on the bench at the end of my bed. I hear clothes dropping on the floor and can only imagine the mess Hurricane Yelena has caused.  
“This,” She holds out a black cocktail dress.  
“No,” Wanda vetoes for me before I have the chance. She holds out another article of clothing, not even emerging from the closet, only her arm appearing. “Yelena, that is a swimsuit coverup. It is see-through.” The widow pokes her head out,  
“I know,” She winks at me. Wanda gets up from the bench and switches places with Yelena, the latter huffing in irritation.  
I can hear hangers moving and can imagine Wanda quickly trying to clean up the destruction Lena caused. She emerges a moment later, holding an outfit carefully arranged on a hanger.  
“Fine,” Yelena crosses her arms, giving her seal of approval. Wanda looks to me, I stand up, taking the clothes.  
I slide on the jeans and pull the olive-green cashmere sweater over my head, accompanying it with the cognac-colored boots that Wanda selected.  
“You done?” Yelena calls, opening the bathroom door.  
“What if I hadn’t been?” Yelena pulls out my vanity stool and gestures for me to sit down. Wanda walks in, her eyes darting around. “Love, you don’t have to be in here. It’s okay,” She is biting her cheeks, eyes flashing red.  
“I’m going to get started on the roasted potatoes,” She stands up straighter, hurrying out of the room. “I’m good, really. Finish getting ready.” Translation, she needs a few minutes alone.  
“What was that?” Yelena asks, rifling through my cabinets and pulling out makeup and hair pins.  
“A little less than a year ago, Wanda found me on the floor of this bathroom. I had drowned in my own blood and she had to give me CPR. I didn’t have oxygen for thirty minutes,” Yelena stops swirling the makeup brush.  
“You say you have to relearn to tie shoes,”  
“I wasn’t exaggerating,” I curl my toes, “Nothing made sense. I couldn’t understand,” My voice hitches, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”  
“Of course,” Her voice is uncharacteristically gentle, and she brushes on some powder. “Look up,” I do as she asks, and see the mascara wand swiped with quick, professional strokes.  
“Are you going to put this much effort into your own look?”  
“I could do nothing to improve this,” She gestures up and down, sporting leggings and a sweatshirt.  
The curling iron sizzles and the air smells of hair spray. Neither of us talk for a while, as Yelena flits around, her face screwed up in concentration. Finally, she steps away, admiring her handiwork. I look in the mirror and see I appear more polished, well rested even. And the sweater Wanda chose makes my eyes pop.  
“Tasha, you deserve to be happy. You know this, da? Let yourself be happy,” She picks an imaginary piece of lint off my shoulder.  
“Thank you, Lena.”  
“I’m no miracle worker, but it will do,” She teases, uncomfortable with the intimacy of the conversation.  
There is a knock at the door just as the buzzer for the oven goes off. I look in the mirror one more time, my stomach flipflopping. But it isn’t a date. We have dinner with Steve all the time.  
“Go get the door, you slowpoke,” Yelena shoves me, breaking me from my daze. I walk down the hall and open the door. Steve is wearing the bomber, and a sweater, I bought him, holding a bouquet of red tulips.  
“Hi Nat,” He smiles at me, this big dopey grin that I can scarcely remember seeing, “You look great,”  
“Thank you, so do you,” We both stand in the doorway, unmoving, “These are for you,” He thrusts the flowers at me, practically shoving them into my hands.  
“They are wonderful, thank you. I’ll put them in some water,” I step out of the way, welcoming him into my home. “You know, you’re our first official dinner guest. Clint doesn’t really count,” I smile at him, “Maybe I can give you a tour after dinner.”  
“That sounds great.”  
“Hi Cap,” Wanda calls from the kitchen, “Don’t worry, Nat didn’t touch any food. We will live to see the sunrise,”  
“It is a good thing you are smart, otherwise you’d just be an ass,” I tease her. Steve looks around the kitchen as I fill as vase with water.  
“Get you anything to drink, Mr. America?” Yelena asks, strolling in with a glass of wine.  
“Um, a beer?” He looks to me. I reach into the fridge and pull out a Yuengling Lager. He mentioned once that it was his first alcoholic drink, back when he was a senior in high school. I pour the beer into a frosted glass.  
“Yelena, you are missing two place settings,” I look through into the dining room.  
“Wanda and I are going for pizza,”  
“She has never had pineapple on pizza, can you believe it?” Wanda asks as she takes the potatoes out of the oven. I am going to kill them both.  
“Well then it is a good thing we are ordering pizza Friday, like every other household in America.” Wanda shrinks slightly under my gaze, and I know I have won with her. My sister is another story.  
“Is everything okay?” Steve looks between the three of us.  
“Fine!” Yelena brushes into the kitchen. “Tasha, I can’t find lighter,”  
“I don’t have one.” I feel my heart quicken. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. Why did I even invite him down? Because I wanted to spend time with him. But it was selfish and stupid. He doesn’t want to be here. He probably only invited me to dinner to be nice. And now he is here out of some obligation.  
“Nat, you want to show me your library while Yelena adds the two place settings?”  
“Sure,” I lead the way down the hall, and Steve pauses at a picture.  
“I can’t believe you hung it up,”  
“Of course I did, it is amazing.” I look at the sketch of the Italian countryside, one of our first missions as partners. We had been waiting for two days for a shipment to go through, and Steve had decided to draw the decrepit farmhouse we were staying in. He managed to capture beauty where all I saw was decay. I bring him into my space and his face lights up.  
“If I could picture you as a room, this would be it,”  
“Really? There are no knives or weapons, no sharp corners.”  
“That isn’t you,” he goes over to my collection of rare books, including the one he purchased for our first birthday together, his first out of the ice. He looks over his shoulder at me, and I begin to wonder why I was nervous at all. This is Steve.  
“I’m glad you like it,” And I mean that, truly.  
“How could I not? This room is you,” I feel heat rise up to my cheeks and we head back to the living area. Yelena gives me an apologetic look, having probably received a scolding from Wanda. I try to ignore the shame that I feel being on the receiving end of the apology. Something so trivial. Steve goes to move around me, his hand gracing the small of my back. It sends shivers up my spine.  
“We brought everything out to the table. And Yelena carved the chicken.”  
“See? Something I can do in kitchen,”   
Wanda takes her usual seat, and Yelena sits next to her. Before I can give Steve the head of the table, he sits to my left.  
Steve tells a story about one of our early missions together, not Italy, but to Thailand. After it was over, we spent three days at the beach, by Fury’s orders. It had been a roaring success, taking down a sex trafficking ring. We had stayed in a small cottage on the water and spent the days listening to Frank Sinatra, Steve’s newest music discovery at the time, while the waves lapped at our feet.  
We finish dinner, laughing as Yelena talks about her run in with a man in France when she went to purchase my slipper, and as Steve and I go to grab the dishes, Wanda stops us.   
“We’ve got this. You should sow Steve the roof,”  
“The roof?” I clarify.  
“Yes, it has the best view of Central Park. It is amazing. I took Yelena up there a few nights ago, when you were up at the compound.”  
“Is nice,” Yelena agrees, stacking the plates. I look over to Steve.  
“I’d like to see it,” Steve agrees.  
“We get dessert ready while you up there,” she promises. I go to the coat closet and pull out our jackets.  
“Sorry, I know they were acting weird earlier,” I apologize as we head up the stairs.  
“Nat, I am having a great time, don’t apologize. Thank you for inviting me down,” I push up the door at the top the staircase and stare, astonished.  
I step forward, marveling. Sam Cooke plays softly through hidden speakers, and fairy lights have been strung overhead. Pillows and blankets have been piled onto the Adirondack chairs that Wanda and I purchased over the summer. Between them, in an ice bucket is a bottle of champagne.  
“Wow,” Steve breathes. I nod, unable to speak. They tricked me. The two of them managed to pull one over on the Black Widow.  
“It is beautiful,”  
“You didn’t?”  
“I had no idea,” I go over to the edge, overlook Central Park. Wanda wasn’t lying when she said it is an amazing view. The song changes and Steve offers his hand. I slip mine into his, and they fit together like puzzle pieces. He brings me close, and smells of aftershave and Old Spice.  
_You thrill me, I know you, you, you thrill me  
_ I rest my head on his chest, as we dance slowly in the frigid night air, but I don’t think I have ever felt warmer.  
_At first I thought it was infatuation_ _But, woo, it's lasted so long_  
The rest of the world melts away. The people, the city, the building we stand on. It is just the two of us, suspended in air, holding onto each other so the other won’t float away. I lose track of the lyrics, lost in the melody, lost in this moment.  
The song ends, and we still. Neither of us move, scared to break the spell. As though we both felt something magical occur. There are no butterflies in stomach, and my heart does not thump out of my chest. I feel calm, I feel peace. Steve pulls away, my hands in his.  
“Natasha,” he begins, I look up at him, meeting his eyes.  
Both of our phones go off at the same moment, the same identical warning ping. The magic shatters, crumbling to dust.  
“Disturbance down at the docks, looks like weapons smuggling. Large shipment,” I head towards the stairs. Steve hesitates only for a second before nodding, racing down behind me. Yelena and Wanda are already changed when we come down, Yelena checking her weapons.  
“I’ve got my backup suit in the car, Tony’s bringing the shield,” Steve nods to us, jogging towards the elevator.  
“I already called the valet; SUV is waiting out front.” Wanda confirms as I run to my room. I emerge a minute later in my catsuit.  
The elevator is thankfully on our floor, meaning Steve took the stairs. We step inside and I press the button for the first floor.  
“So how was it?” Yelena asks, looking over at me.  
“You two,” I groan, “Why won’t this elevator go any faster?” The doors open at the fifteenth floor. A pizza delivery guy stands at the threshold. To my amazement, he steps in.  
“So, uh, crime sucks, huh?” He tries to make small talk. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Wanda is trying not to laugh. The door finally open on the first floor. “Superheroes first,” The teenager steps to the side. Steve is in the passenger seat of the car, in uniform. I jump into the driver’s seat and as soon as I hear Wanda’s seatbelt click, I shift into drive.  
We fly through the streets, Friday changing traffic lights for us. When we arrive at the scene, Tony is just touching down. He tosses the shield to Steve.  
“Ever thought of playing ultimate frisbee, Cap?” He rolls his eyes, adjusting the weapon.  
“Tony, I want you getting a quinjet here ASAP. Yelena, setup a perimeter. I don’t want civilians or regular law enforcement coming in until we can determine the weapons aren’t alien. Once the all clear is given, you can let SWAT in.”  
“You put me on babysitting? Tasha,” She whines, looking from Steve to me.  
“You are protecting civilians. The most important part of this job. Don’t mess it up,” I scold. “If you have to, use lethal force. But only when necessary. Tony, I want you to be our eyes in the sky.”  
“Heard, Widow,” Tony takes off. “Quinjet is ten minutes out.”  
“No Spider-man?” Steve asks.  
“He is having dinner with Ned’s grandparents in New Jersey,” Wanda explains.  
“Fan out, stay on coms,” I command. “No unnecessary risks, promise me,” I look to my daughter. She nods. I kiss her forehead and we are off.  
We run into the shipyard, a complicated maze of metal containers. Any one of them could serve as a hiding spot for people, or explosives. I quickly scale one, giving me a view of the yard. Fifty feet away, I spy lights.   
“Ironman, source of the lights north west of me?”  
“Security hut, two guys are dead.”  
“Shit,” Already two civilian deaths. I hear a shipping container shift and crash, followed by yelling and gunshots. Up ahead, red explodes like fireworks.  
“Scarlet Witch?”  
“We’re good, I’m with her. No injuries,” Steve confirms.  
“Rumlow!” Wanda growls into the coms, “I heard him,”  
“Can’t you just do you voodoo?” Tony calls from above.  
“Kind of hard to control minds when I’m dodging bullets!”  
“I’ve got him,” I confirm. “Cap, Witch, and Ironman, take down the others and find the weapons.”  
“Yes ma’am,” Tony mutters, and I see him dive down from the sky.  
“Scarlet Witch, what way did he go?”  
“Heading towards the street,”  
“Viper, did you hear that?”  
“Heard,” Yelena responds after a beat, seeming to remember it is her new code name.  
“When Fury and Maria arrive with the quinjet, I want you to meet them, they know his style. Just in case he gets past me,” I scale the shipping containers, heading towards the street. My feet land silently on each jump, and I am pleased that the years of ballet still pay off. A bullet whizzes by my head. I am getting close to him, really close if he felt the need to fire. There is the distinct and quiet sound of a magazine being changed. I pounce.  
He cornered himself, a rat lost in a maze. Surrounded on three sides, and I am blocking his only exit.  
“Long time no see,” I purr, strolling forward. He aims his gun, I lunge forward before his finger can even grace the trigger. He is quickly disarmed, and I kick his weapons away.  
“Fuck, someone kill the witch, I have my own problem!” He barks into his own coms. He goes to swing at me, and I dodge it easily. We tussle, somersaulting, our bodies slamming against the metal walls around us. He wears full body armor, and I only have my catsuit.  
“Widow,” Tony’s voice echoes in my ear.  
“I am fine. Viper, status on quinjet?” I jab at Rumlow, going for a weak spot in the armor.  
“Landing now,”  
“As fun as this little SHIELD reunion has been,” he teases, “I think we have to call it quits before our lovely Director Hill arrives, as much as I would like to see her.” He goes to slide past me and a draw my gun, vibranium bullets. They would pierce through any armor.  
“Why don’t you kill me, Romanoff? You know you want to,”  
“Death would be a gift, one you don’t deserve. Get down on the ground, now.”  
“Okay, okay.” He puts his hands above his head, “You know, I actually met with a friend of yours recently,” I run a list of people through my head, trying to think who he could have hurt. “He told me to tell you something, said you would remember it,” My mouth is dry.  
“Stop talking before I make you,” I rip off his helmet. His face is scarred and deformed, too much like my own was. I hesitate, heart pounding. He gives me a sickly sweet grin.  
“Vasily,”  
“No,” I shake my head, I will my feet to move, but they remain planted in place,  
“Dmitri Olga,”  
“Stop, please,” My voice is barely a whisper. Weak. Sloppy. Run, Natalia. Run.  
“Widow, are you okay?”  
“Vasily Anna,” Rumlow finishes. I feel my thoughts slowing down. My feet finally unfreeze, and I stumble back, hitting the red shipping container behind me. “So I finally get to meet Natalia,” I sink to the ground, trying to cover my ears. If I can’t hear the orders, I don’t have to follow them.  
“Natasha, status report,”  
“Give me your com,” He holds out his hand. I shake my head. No. I am Natasha Romanoff. Avenger. Friend. Auntie Nat. Tasha. Mom. Natasha Romanoff. Avenger. Auntie Nat. Tasha. Mom. Natasha Romanova. Auntie Nat. Tasha. Mom. “Hand over your com, Natalia,”  
“No my name,” I grit out. Natasha Romanova. Auntie Nat. Mom. Natasha Romanova. Mom. Natalia Romanova. Mom.  
“Natalia, the com,” I remove it from my ear, handing it over to him. He throws it, and I hear it hit the water. This isn’t Ivan. Ivan is dead, right? He died before I defected. Rumlow. I don’t answer to Rumlow, do I? Yes. Commanding officer in SHIELD. No, SHIELD is gone. “Are you ready to comply, Widow?”  
“Ready to comply,” I echo. But it doesn’t seem right. Something isn’t right.  
“Stand up,” I rush to obey him. On the ground. Never when they want. Only when they don’t. Stupid Natalia. Know better. Be better. Be the best. I will not fail. Made of marble. “You were such a good little toy until Barton and Fury fucked you up,” he steps forward, unzipping my catsuit. Barton said not to let that happen. Was that real? Barton, Auntie Nat. No. Not Real. Mom. No. Not mom. Never a mom. Right? Can’t be a mom. I take the star. Something sharp pricks my chest. I look down and see a knife dragging down, creating a shallow cut. “Amazing. When he said he called you doll, well I can see why.” Doll? Soldat. No. No. No. “No wonder you lost it when Rollins asked you if you were ready to comply. You are just a little puppet, aren’t you?”  
He grips my chin. Something isn’t right. Stop, Natalia. Not your place. The hands slip, traveling downward. Always struggle with knowing your place. Bad. Bad. Bad. His hands cup my breasts. He licks his scarred lips. I think I was there when he got the scar. Was I there? No. Not possible. No. Too many thoughts. Images. Can’t be real. Not real.  
“There will be time for that later,” He steps away. “I had a favor called in, and it is the kind of request you can’t refuse. I have a task for you,”  
“Ready to comply,” I stand up straighter. I can do a job. Show I’m good. I can be good. Do what they want. Always do what they want. Please Madame B. Know my role. I know my role. Obey, be a good doll. Rumlow’s warped face twists and he leans forward. His rancid breath is hot on my face.  
“Kill the witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I know! Evil!! It was such a happy chapter and then I had to go and do that! 
> 
> And thank you all for you consistent comments on my work, they really motivate me to write faster, knowing that there are people who look forward to the chapters and are enjoying the series as much as I am. This series has been going on for nine months now, and I seriously cannot believe it. I never thought it would get this far.
> 
> Thank you all!


	35. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I tried really hard to get this out on Monday, I'm sorry. I ended up working for eleven hours and fell asleep writing, then yesterday worked ten hours. I was so tired, I needed to review it in the daytime to make sure it was coherent lol. And I have a three hours math class tonight after work, sigh. Life, ya know? Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter, I worked insanely hard on it. Additionally, I was to thank you all for the amazing comments on the last chapter, I have never received so many and I appreciated every single one!

“The tie which links  
mother and child  
is of such pure and immaculate strength  
as to be never violated.”  
-Washington Irving

“Stop, please,” Nat’s voice echoes in my ear as the rounds of gunfire around us end, the last of the militants surrendering.  
“Widow, are you okay?” Steve asks before I have a chance, shouldering his shield.  
We wait a beat for a response, there is none. Her request was weak, like she wasn’t even sure she could say the words. My palms begin to sweat despite the cold.  
We are surrounded by considerable carnage. Of the twenty or so men, only five remain alive, currently being hogtied by Tony. I wait for Natasha to saunter onto the scene, teasing. She doesn’t.  
“Natasha, status report,” Steve asks again, panic seeping into his voice, as he abandons protocol.  
“Not my name,” I hear her mutter. It is impossible to tell if she is talking to us, or someone else. Possibly Rumlow. There is a rustling sound, and then a beep of her com dying. Then nothing.  
“Natasha, Natasha do you copy?” Steve tries again, “Come on, Nat, do you copy?” My own voice seems stuck in my throat behind the lump that has formed.  
“Sorry, com fell out,” Yelena’s voice reverberates in our ears, “Quinjet here, Hill and Falcon. No Fury.”  
“Heard, Viper. We are going in for backup with Widow. Be ready for immediate extraction,” Steve replies, he is a leader once more. “I’m sure she’s fine, just taking a little longer than usual,” He is just as bad of a liar as always, but is giving his best effort. “Stay where Nat assigned you. Stark, could use a view,”  
Ironman launches into the air, directing me and Steve. His face is impassive, the only sign of his nerves is the tightness of his jaw.  
We turn down a final makeshift corridor and Tony lands besides us. There is blood on the ground, sticky as it begins to dry, and dents on the shipping containers walls. Rumlow is gone, but Natasha remains.  
She is slumped down in a back corner, her eyes vacantly staring ahead. Her suit has been ripped open, and a long, vertical wound covers most of her torso. If it weren’t for the unsteady rising and fall of her chest, I would think she is dead. None of us run towards her, all knowing better than to rush Natasha when she has cornered herself, especially when she is injured. Steve makes the first move.  
“Nat, you’re hurt. We want to help you,” he says, arms outstretched in front of him, accompanied by a single step forward. Under normal circumstances, Nat would reply shortly, with a biting remark about how she is not some wounded baby bird. This doesn’t happen.  
Her eyes remain fixed, and I see now it is on a knife a few feet away from her. Slowly, her blank gaze moves to him, but there is no recognition, her eyes dull. There is a slight tilt of her head. A noise of dissent, close to a whine, exits her mouth, and she tries to push back further into the wall. I don’t recognize the woman before me anymore than she does us.  
“Okay, I won’t come any closer,” he promises, “What if it’s just Wanda? And,” Something clicks in her. Nat’s head whips up at the mention of my name. Instantly, we have the Black Widow in our presence, the one I have seen in her memories, of her early days with Clint. Her previously empty eyes are filled with ferocity, burning hatred.  
Before any of us can react, Natasha is lunging forward with surprising agility given her current state. She brandishes the knife that had laid before her, and it glints under the dim, flickering glow of the lights overhead.  
I cry out in pain as she grabs onto my wrist with a grip strong enough to break the bones. It is as though she doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care. I am shoved into the same corner she occupied moments ago, my head bouncing off the metal walls. I wince and my vision swims before coming into focus once more.  
Nat’s normally steady breaths come in rapid gasps. She stands in front of me, still wielding the knife, her back to me, as she dares Tony or Steve to come any closer.  
“ _Don’t touch her_ ,” she hisses in Russian. My heart thumps in my chest as Nat shakes, as though even standing is a struggle.  
“Hill, you on coms?” Steve asks, his voice wavering.  
“Here, Cap.”  
“Rumlow’s gone. I need Clint on his way to the compound, ASAP. I don’t care what it takes or what it costs.” Steve’s muscles seem to ripple with barely suppressed rage, which Nat instantly picks up on, pressing even closer than before. I can feel her shivering, her knees starting to knock together. But she squares her shoulders and takes on a stance I recognize. She is going to fight to the death if that is what it takes.  
“Mom, I’m okay, no one is going to hurt me,” I try quietly. Whatever she saw scared her, it is the only rational I can come up with. He must have threatened her in some way or done something. She shakes her head, refusing to move. Steve continues talk, and I turn off my com, not wanting to listen to the feedback of Tony and Steve arguing in front of me, “Natasha, we’re safe, Rumlow is gone,” The mention of his name causes a full body shudder, and the weapon trembles in her hand. “I’m not hurt,” I offer, “I’m okay.”  
Steve tries to step closer, and something akin to a low growl is emitted from the back of her throat. She suddenly drops the knife like it has burned her, releasing her grip on me as well. Her hands fly to her ears, though I can’t imagine why. I take the opportunity of distraction to slip out from behind her.  
She makes a shrill sound, bordering on a wail, as she realizes I have moved. Nat scrambles for the knife that she had abandoned just seconds before. Steve stands off to the side, in a state of limbo, unsure whether to stay back or to help. Unsure which will cause more harm.  
“Bad, bad, bad,” She looks at me, her green eyes crazed, “So bad. But can’t. No. More important than mission. Always more important.” Her hand rests on my cheek.  
“Mom, we should get going,”  
“It’s not safe! He can’t, I can’t,” She once again begins to back us into a corner. I look to Steve. I don’t want to use my powers on her, but this is getting desperate. She needs medical attention, badly.  
“Natasha, go to the quinjet,” he commands. Steve’s face twists into a grimace as he gives the order, how much it hurts him to utter this sentence is so clear, so obvious. She does the awkward lurch she did last time, trying to do both what she wants and what was commanded. She looks to me, and then to him. “Take Wanda to the quinjet,” he amends.  
“Ready to comply,” The color has drained from Steve’s face. She stumbles forward, leaving behind her weapons that litter the ground, something I have never seen her do. Beads of sweat trickle down from her hairline.  
“Mom, it’s okay. Everything is okay. See? I’m fine,” Natasha moves slowly, checking each dark corner we pass, as though someone is waiting and lurking. She holds only the knife, but it seems to be all she thinks she needs. “Please, I’m not hurt. No one is trying to hurt me,”  
“Can’t hurt you,” She glances over at me, eyes wide.  
“I know, no one will.” I promise her.  
By the time we get there, it took ten minutes longer than it should have and Natasha and leaning heavily on me. Everyone is waiting, Yelena pacing.  
“What took so long?” Tony snaps. Natasha is instantly alert once more, awakened from the stupor she had adopted. She falls back into a defensive stance, keeping me behind her.  
“Take Wanda to the quinjet,” Natasha looks back to me.  
“I know, we’re almost there. Just you and me, right?” My voice cracks. They quickly clear a path, Steve holding Yelena back before she can crowd Nat.  
Natasha brings us to the back corner, and she searches my face, then reaches forward, wiping away tears I didn’t know I had.  
“Can’t hurt you,” She continues to shake, tremble. “Bad, bad, bad.” The quinjet echoes with the sound of heavy footsteps, the team boarding.  
“Tasha,” Yelena rushes towards us. Nat presses her back up against me and wields the knife. “Natalia?” She tries hesitantly, “Is me, Lena.”  
“You hurt, work with him,” Natasha stumbles over her words, “Blood, there was blood, poison,”  
“What?” She lurches back, wounded by her words, falling against the center seats.  
“You worked with Rumlow?” Tony snarls, his suit flies on once more.  
“No, never!” Yelena shakes her head.  
“Why should we believe you?” He steps towards her, iron fist clenched. Natasha is up in a flash, putting herself between Tony and Yelena, despite having a weapon trained on her just before. I push myself out of the cramped position Nat forced me into, unfurling my limbs. Natasha looks between me, Yelena, and Tony, and sinks to the ground, gasping for air as her fingers twist around her red locks.  
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Natasha looks around. “Agent Barton?”  
“Clint’s on his way, Nat,” Steve inserts himself between the four of us, stopping a fight from breaking out between Yelena and Tony, possibly upsetting Nat even more, “Yelena, I know you don’t work for him. She’s just confused,”  
“About what? What she talking about?” the Widow demands. I tune out the rest of their conversation, instead crouching down next to Nat. Her hair is tangled so tightly around her fingers, the tips have begun to turn purple. I wave my hand next to her temple, and she slowly relaxes, her muscles loosening, and leans back against me. The unexpected weight causes me to lose my balance, landing on my tailbone.  
“A little help,” I ask, Natasha having pinned my leg. Steve scoops up Nat, carefully laying her across two seats, while Tony helps me off the ground.  
“What did you do to her?”  
“We’re in the library, reading,” I explain. Her lips are parted slightly, her posture slouched. I struggle to hold back my tears once more. Even as scared and disoriented as she was, she still tried to comfort me.  
“Did she say anything to you on the walk back?”  
“Just that someone can’t hurt me.” Steve looks for Yelena for help. She is biting her thumbnail, deep in thought.  
“Is it possible that Rumlow knows trigger words?” Steve wonders aloud.  
“Where is he?” I look around and don’t see him in holding, and every teammate who is on the scene is onboard.  
“He was gone by the time we had the chance to look. I have Friday searching for him,” Tony answers. He is still out there. He did this to Nat and is still out there.  
“Is it possible?” Steve repeats, looking at Yelena. I should have been looking for Nat in battle. Or have gone with her. She shouldn’t have gone alone.  
“Da, anything possible, _Captain_.”  
“Great, so we are back to 2013. You going to abandon her all over again, Rogers? Make her prove her love for you? Her devotion?”   
“What does that mean?” Yelena demands. No. It can’t be like 2013. And Nat didn’t try to kill me, she was trying to save me. She didn’t actually try to hurt anyone.  
“Oh, so our glorious leader didn’t tell you? The Red Room,” The quinjet jerks to the side, and Maria’s curses.  
“Will you three shut up?” Sam demands, leaving the cockpit. Sam’s eyes are on me, and everyone else’s soon are too, and they take a step back, “Wanda, take some deep breaths, okay? We’re two minutes away from the compound. We’ll help her, okay? Four, seven, eight,” Sam coaches.  
I look over to Natasha, still in her daze, the comfortable world I put her in. Once she comes out, the thought makes me sick. I want to scream. The quinjet jolts again.  
“Wanda, focus on me. Natasha is going to be okay. You got her to the quinjet. Clint is on his way, everything is going to be fine,” We land next to the hospital wing. Steve carefully picks up Nat, and I go to follow, but am intercepted by doctors.  
“We just want to do a quick concussion check, and they you can be with her, okay?” Steve must have called, telling them I hit my head.  
I reluctantly consent, if only because Nat would kill me if I do have one and wasn’t checked by the doctors. The examination seems to take hours, though likely only minutes, and I drum my fingers impatiently on the crinkly white paper laid across the table.  
“Okay Wanda, you are all set, but please let us know if,” There is a crash in the hall, cutting him off. I jump down from the table, running out of the room. Red surges from my fingertips, and I think of Rumlow, coming back to finish what he has started. I have to find Nat. My powers search for her automatically, and I sprint to her room.  
It quickly becomes apparent that she was the source of the crash. Her back is pressed against the wall, as doctors try to coach her back into bed. One of their arms appears to be out of socket and another holds a hand to his face, likely a broken nose. Blood has begun to stain the front of her johnny, and I imagine the fresh stitches they just finished have torn open. Most notably, she holds was appears to be a broken IV pole in front of her, preventing anyone from coming closer.  
“I don’t believe you,” Nat cries, “Lies, lies, lies,” She trembles, “I killed her, I killed her,”  
“Mom?” Her head swivels to the door. The pole drops out of her hands and her shoulders sag. The doctors appear even more relieved than her. She stumbles towards me and pulls me into a hug but jumps away just as quickly, scolding herself.  
“No, no, no. Bad. I did bad,” She goes over to the corner of the room, pulling her legs to her chest as she sits on the cold linoleum floor. “Punished, have to be punished,”  
I can’t do this. I don’t know what’s wrong. The strongest person I know is falling apart at the seams. The door opens and Yelena walks in. She has since changed out of her uniform and offers me fresh clothes.  
“Natalia or Tasha?” She asks, crouching down in front of her sister. Nat doesn’t respond. “Okay, another question. You know who I am? Who girl is?” Yelena is given a subtle nod in response. “Good, now Wanda is going to go into bathroom to change into new clothes without blood. I help you into bed, da?” She waves me away and I take the opportunity.  
In the bathroom, I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. This is my fault. I should have been there. I should have helped her.  
Yelena brought me a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that I keep at the compound, along with a pair of slippers. Most of my hair had escaped the hurried ponytail, and I have a small scrape on my cheek. I run my fingers through the tangles and twist it up into a bun before splashing cold water on my face, trying to calm down the red blotches that had appeared after crying for so long. It is odd. I don’t really remember crying. I don’t remember feeling much of anything, just an observer. But I obviously felt, I reacted. I almost crashed the quinjet for Christ’s sake. With a final deep breath, I gather my uniform into my arms and exit the bathroom.  
Yelena had fulfilled her promise. Nat is in bed, staring vacantly at the wall. She holds herself, and as I get closer, I hear her mumbling a story about a scorpion and a frog. I look to the younger widow, and quickly find myself trapped in her memories.

_Yelena takes controlled steps up the stairs, but impatience grows with each step. She wears a light blue top under a navy pinafore. She looks almost too old for the outfit. But it is likely the measured steps and perfect posture that cause me to think this, as looking at her face, Yelena appears to only be, at most, twelve years old. As she reaches the third floor, her feet begin to move quicker, nearly breaking into a jog. She pushes open a heavy wooden door, revealing a dormitory. There are rows of identical beds, at least two dozen. They are all empty, save for one in the back of the room.  
A young Natasha sits in the bed, her back against the headboard and wall. She is gangly and youthful, yet to grow into her limbs. No, that is not it. She is too thin. Malnourished. She wears not a dress like Yelena, but gym shorts and a white tank. The shirt is stained with blood, and she sports a near identical expression to what I just saw in the hospital room.  
“Natalia,” Yelena rushes towards her sister, relieved to see she has lived another day. Nat turns to look at her, face unchanging. “What did they do to you?”  
“I woke up in a room. They sent in a girl with a knife. She tried to kill me. I snapped her neck. How did I know to do that?” Natasha’s, Natalia’s, voice is flat, not a hint of inflection. “I made her death quick. Then they brought me here. They tell me nothing, they explain nothing.”  
Yelena reaches into her dress and pulls out a dinner roll. Natalia looks at it suspiciously, the first expression I have seen. Yelena sighs and tears off a piece, swallowing it, and then opening up her mouth for her sister to see. Satisfied, Nat devours the roll. I wonder how long Nat has to go without food for her to be so enthusiastic about it. Other girls begin to trickle in, and Yelena raises a finger to her lips before slipping away. They all strip down and change into their pajamas, Natalia following the steps of the other girls.  
A woman I have only seen in Nat’s nightmares arrives, locking each girl to their bed. After a few minutes, Yelena slips from the handcuff, dancing silently across the floorboards and coming up next to Nat’s bed.  
“I am Yelena,” she explains, lying down on the bed beside her sister, their shoulders hardly touching, “And you saved my life,”  
Their voices are could barely be considered a whisper, so quiet that even someone with enhanced hearing would struggle to make out the words. Yelena talks for hours, with Natalia mostly listening. Until, at one point, she is able to start filling in blanks, and explaining things herself. Though the blank look leaves her eyes, it is replaced with haunted defeat and reluctant acceptance. As the sun begins to creep over the horizon, light streaming into the room, Yelena slips from the bed and heads back to her own, sliding into the cuff just as Madame B walks into the room. _

Yelena stares at me, and I back at her. She takes the soiled uniform from my arms and spins around on her heel, her movements tight and precise, and leaves the room. She holds her head high, hiding the anguish she is experiencing. It is just me and Nat.  
“How are you doing?” I ask her, sitting in the armchair next to the bed. She reaches for my hand and then pulls back. “Nat,”  
There is a knock on the door, and it opens, Clint walks in. He is wearing pajamas, and I realize now how late it is. Clint was likely getting ready for bed when the quinjet arrived.  
“Agent Barton?” Nat looks over at her best friend, relief flooding her features. I hate the I am causing her pain, whether by being here or not. It is as though my very existence is torturous.  
“Aw come on Nat, you know I’m not an agent anymore,” Clint tries to sound lighthearted, but his eyes are watery.  
“I did bad,” She confesses.  
“No, you were good, Tash. Really. So good.”  
“I disobeyed orders,”  
“Whose?” Her face clouds over for a second.  
“Rumlow’s,”  
“He isn’t in charge of you though, SHIELD is gone, remember? And even then, you had the same clearance level.” She nods, deep in thought.  
“SHIELD fell, he had burns, all over his face,” Her voice is small, “I did that.”  
“He was trying to kill everyone; you saved a lot of people. Me included,” Clint is so patient, I wonder how many times they had to go through something similar when she first joined. He sits down at the foot of her bed.  
“Age-Barton, no sorry, not Barton. Not Barton. Clint.” Her hands make their way to her forearms, and he gently pulls them away.  
“Whatever you want to call me, Nat. You can call me whatever you want,”  
“As long as it’s not late to dinner?” Her eyes light up for a moment.  
“There you are,” he grins. “Can you tell me where we are?”  
“SHIELD Hospital,” She hesitates, “No, um, compound. We’re on the compound, we were in the city,” He gazes moves off Clint.  
“Nat, stay with me, come on, stay with me,” She nods, squeezing her fists.  
“Verbal confirmation, Tash.”  
“Hey, that’s my line,” Clint unhooks her fingernails from her palms, the flesh torn. “Can you tell me your name?”  
“Natalia,” She blinks, “Natasha Romanoff, Nat, Tash, Tasha, Auntie Nat, Mom,”  
“Okay, showoff.” Clint finishes bandaging her hands. This is feeling strangely intimate, like I am intruding on something very personal, very private.  
“I’m going to go check on,” I go to get up, while fishing for an excuse, and Natasha starts to panic.  
“No! No, no, no,” Natasha tears into her arms, “A favor! Can’t hurt,”  
“Shit, Nat,” Clint struggles to pin her down. I quickly use my powers, and she bucks against them.  
“I won’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll stay right here,” I promise, lowering myself back into the chair. The crazed look has entered her eyes again.  
“This is too much blood, I need to go get a suture kit,” Clint rushes out of the room.  
“Can’t hurt you, can’t,” She begs as I press the spare blanket to the wounds on her arms.  
“I know, Mom.”  
“He told me ‘Kill the witch’,” I feel my blood drain from my face, “Can’t hurt you,” I continue to press rag to her wounds when Clint and Steve walk in. Clint casts a warning look over his shoulder to the soldier before looking to me.  
“Wanda, are you okay?”  
“Kill the witch, that’s what he said,” She repeats, her eyes bearing into me.  
“I’m not leaving,” I tell them both before they can suggest it, as the weight of Nat’s words settle in.  
“Captain Rogers,” Nat looks over at Steve, “I disobeyed orders.” None of us mention how she is addressing him; I hope Clint prepared him that Nat is… off.  
“I know, you did well, Nat,” Steve looks as sick as I feel when Natasha seems to bask under his praise, her smile unnaturally large. Clint doesn’t seem surprised, instead carefully continuing to stitch up Nat’s arms.  
“I could never hurt you, Little Witch,” She looks at me with a sudden burst of clarity, her eyes sharp and focused, grabbing onto my hand, “Never. No matter what.”  
She winces in pain and pulls from both me and Clint, stumbling to the mirror on the opposite wall. She drops her hospital gown. Steve gasps, quickly looking away. But Nat doesn’t notice, not taking her eyes off the mirror, off herself. For a minute she just stares at herself, like she doesn’t quite recognize the person in the mirror. She turns around, bending slowly to pick up the gown, as to not disturb the wound on her chest. It is as she bends that I see two hand shapes bruises on her breasts, starting to become a deep purple. She looks up and sees Clint and Steve. There is a visible wince.  
“A little warning next time,” She says, appearing to talk to herself, but Clint seems to know what she means.  
“You’re okay, no one is mad at you. Right, Steve?”   
“Of course not.” His voice breaks, and Natasha catches it, her eyes flashing with some imperceptible emotion.  
“Yelena, I said something on the quinjet, to Yelena,”  
“Don’t worry, I talked her down.” Steve promises. Nat’s clarity seems to be fading fast.  
“Why don’t you lie back down?” Clint offers.  
“Need to talk to Lena,”  
“After you sleep,”  
“I’m their favorite toy, you broke their favorite toy.”  
“You’re not a toy, Nat,” Clint pulls down the blankets and the bring her over to the bed. She is pliant, climbing in without protest. But she looks to me with desperate pleading.  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” She repeats.  
“I love you,” I take her hand in mine, ignoring the panic that I feel explode out of her. I think I understand the reason behind it now. “I trust you. I’m not going anywhere.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!! I hope to have the next one up on Sunday, with maybe a Volition chapter up Friday? Thank you all for reading and I hope you are having a great week!  
> Thank you,  
> Carly


	36. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay! If you read Volition, you know I have been insanely super busy lately. But, I have not abandoned the story, I promise! I hope you are all doing well and staying safe and healthy :)  
> Also, on Sunday night I went to post this chapter and my computer crashed. I lost half the chapter (despite saving the doc a few minutes prior) and needed to step away for a little while and collect myself lol  
> Just a warning, Nat's thoughts are kind of all over the place in this chapter as she tries to reorient herself.  
> So without further ado, here we are!  
> Thank you all for reading! And as always, comments are always appreciated, seriously, I’m so thankful for every comment I receive!

“Please,” I wrap the sheets around my wrists, “Please.”  
“You’re okay, Tash,” Agent Barton soothes. I wrench away from him.  
“No, no, no!” If I wake up in the middle of the night, disoriented. _Kill the Witch_. It has seemed like ages since he coaxed me into bed, truly with little effort. But agreeing to sleep has been another matter entirely. Yelena brushes in, dropping two sets of handcuffs unceremoniously on the bed.  
“Just do it.” As soon at the restraints clicks around my wrist, she flees the room. I try to figure out why, but the connections are slow in my brain. Everything is sluggish. It reminds me of breathing in the summer D.C. air. But even with the restraints, they’re not safe. I could get out easily enough, just snap my thumbs and reset them. Break the plastic hospital bedframe with hardly any effort.  
“Relax, Nat. You’re safe,”  
“Wanda,” I twist, turning to look for her. “She shouldn’t be here, but,”  
“I know, she’s not leaving. Okay? She’ll sit right there,” I look over to the seat, about a foot away from the bed. Far enough away, but still in my line of sight. “Does that work?” I nod tiredly. “Sleep, Nat.”  
The lines between sleeping and being awake blur with continuing intensity. I call out for Madame B, the Drakov’s daughter. Imagines flash thorough my mind so quick, I can’t tell if there are the scene in front of me, something else entirely. There are voices I don’t understand like I am hearing them underwater. They are muffled. Distant. A hand brushes hair away from my forehead. It is calloused and warm.  
“Spasibo,” I mutter, not fully awake, “Ya lyublyu tebya,  
“I love you too,” he replies. Because that is clear, even if nothing else isn’t. Throughout the vomiting, screaming, and confusion. He does not waver from my side, does not hesitate to offer reassurance. He cards his fingers through my hair, undoing tangles.  
By the time sunlight has begun to shine into the room, no one in attendance had gotten much sleep. Agent Barton’s eyes are bloodshot and dry, while dark circles have begun to form under Wanda’s eyes. Though, I am sure I look worse. Wanda’s chair had moved from its place a safe distance away from the bed, to against it, her hand entangled in mine. She had finally fallen asleep, her head rests on the hand encased in her embrace.  
I look over to Agent Barton, who is as alert as ever. He likely held vigil by my side all night, never moving, never sleeping. Guilt gnaws at me. He should be home, with Laura and the kids. He always has to come back for me. It is my fault. Always my fault.  
It feels like hours of doctors pricking and prodding. They tell me what the IVs are for, but nothing sticks. Time is both fast and slow.  
I am in a fog. It is thick and heavy, no light able to penetrate the mist. It is like the world around me has been cut off. I question if I even exist anymore. This doesn’t feel like living. But it isn’t death. This is something in between. Purgatory. The torture of nothingness, of neither here nor there. It is the unknown, the undiscovered, the undecided. I am not tethered to a body, I am floating, drifting. Waiting. For what, I don’t know.  
I have hands again. Someone is gripping them. They squeeze tight and then relax. A tether. A lifeline.  
“Mom,” Wanda whispers, her voice soft, gentle.  
I look over to her, we are the only two in the room. She appears worn out, like she has been up for days. _Kill the witch._ I pull my hands away from hers, staring at the weapons. That is what they are, more than anything. They maim and kill. Wanda lets out a heavy sigh, and I flinch. Disappointment. I did something wrong. I try to wrack my brain. Bad. I did something bad.  
“It’s okay, we’re all safe,” Her eyes a big and wide, the whites of her eyes bloodshot.  
“Did you get enough sleep?” She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she tugs on her fingers, keeping her gaze cast downward. The door the room bursts open before I can interrogate her further.  
Yelena struts in, with a bundle of fabrics. She is freshly showered and wears makeup to hide the bags under her eyes. I can spy the crease of concealer, just by the left side of the bridge of her nose, not quite blended in. She always manages to have perfect posture and still seem languid, while I feel as though I always come off stiff. Like marble.  
“Come on, Tasha,” My sister thrusts an armful of clothes at me. “You don’t have to change. Up to you.” Choices. She wants me to choose.  
“What do you want me to wear?” I try, hoping to get a sense of what they want from me. Wanda stiffens beside me. Mistake. They didn’t want me to ask that. Clothes. I should be able to pick my own clothes. But I can’t choose. But not choosing is a choice in itself. If they hadn’t wanted me to change, they wouldn’t have brought me fresh clothes.  
I get up from the bed, and my head swims. The doctors had me on a saline drip, I think. It was removed not long ago, there is still a light pulse where the IV had been removed. I have a vague recollection of being intermittently ill throughout the night. Yelena and Wanda are dissecting each step I make in the trek to the bathroom. Everything is sore, every muscle aches. The door clicks shut behind me.  
Someone must have changed me out of the hospital johnny during the night. I pull off the pajamas I had been wearing. They confirm my earlier suspicions, smelling of sweat and vomit. I look down at my body with more clarity than I had last night.  
It is littered with bruises, and the large wound on my abdomen is still healing, the skin around its edges is red and angry. I wince in pain as I pull on the sports bra. The tight fabric compresses my flesh, causing the hand shaped bruises to throb. Lena brought a pair of leggings and a t-shirt as well, in addition to a well-worn oversized sweater. It belongs to me just as much as Steve at this point.  
I push the sleeves up to my wrists and roughly rub at my face with scalding water, trying to wake up my brain. The water is steaming and irritating, almost punishing. The fog still lingers, like a heavy morning dew that refuses to dry out with the arrival of the sun. I look up in the mirror, staring at my face. Everything about me seems dull, out of focus. When I force out a smile, I half expect my teeth to be falling out, rotting. It is how I feel. Something rotting within, in my very core, slowly beginning to take over until the rest of them see what I am on the inside.  
There is a hair elastic on the rim of the sink. It is not mine, but I claim it. I pull back my hair, away from my face, off my neck. All of it just manages to be tied back. It is starting to grow longer again, but looking at it, I can’t bring myself to feel a thing. Madame B would scold me for even wanting to have an opinion about my hair. It is to be used as a tool, like every other part of me. Something to distract someone, to enhance a disguise. To please a mark. But she is gone, and I’m still here. Still here.  
When I step back into the hospital room, Wanda is the only one there. She goes to pull down her sleeve. This wouldn’t have been unusual if she had done it on both. That is what she used to do, pull down her sleeves to cover her hands. But right now, she only pulls down one. Not normal. Something is off.  
She smiles at me, but I can see right through it. She is in pain, and it is my fault. My fault. I put her in an impossible situation. I almost killed her. I didn’t follow orders. Had to disobey. She always comes first. Wanda is the most important.  
“I hurt you,” I make the connection, looking at her wrist.  
“I’m fine,” She shakes her head, “Really. You were trying to protect me,”  
“I was the threat.” I pick at a scab on my palm. They must have taken the gauze off my hands and arms this morning before Yelena came in, and the shallow wounds are all scabbed over.  
“Dr. Fine said you’re free to go. Do you want to head to your room now?” Dr. Fine arrived late last night, or rather early this morning. Do they want me to head to my suite? Or do they want me to stay here? But Wanda said free to go. If they wanted me here, they wouldn’t have told her that.  
I head towards the door and Wanda follows. My mind drifts to Yelena. I almost told her. It would destroy her if she knew. Let alone if it broke down her walls, but if it didn’t, and she had to live with this. And the team. They wouldn’t trust her. Certainly not Tony, his trust is hard to earn and even harder to keep. And Wanda, they were just starting to form a relationship. If it weren’t for that antiserum, Captain Rogers could have gotten her out. She wouldn’t have lost her leg. And it is all my fault. Because I couldn’t protect my sister. Protect Wanda.  
I pull myself out of my thoughts and look over at my daughter. Her limp is more prominent today, as it always is after a mission or intense training. And this was after the bootcamp over the weekend. I have been pushing her too hard. She shouldn’t have gone to the docks. And have to see me like that. I realize now why she is limping so much; I am walking so fast it is practically a jog. I force my steps to slow and can feel her prepping herself to say something.  
“How are you?” This is not what she wanted to ask.  
“I am fine. I will have to type up the mission report.”  
“Sam and Yelena are doing it.”  
“They weren’t,” I clench and unclench my fists, thinking of the words, “I have to document what Rumlow said. He isn’t working alone,” How many other trigger phrases are out there that I don’t know about? And someone is trying to get to Wanda, we need to find him as soon as possible.  
“You can do it in a few days,”  
“No, that isn’t protocol,” I shake my head, “Unless otherwise incapiciated, an agent must submit their mission report/debrief within twenty-four to forty-eight hours of mission completion. Agents who fail to do so,” I cut myself off, chest burning in embarrassment. “Not an agent. Sorry, SHIELD is gone. I’m sorry,” I rub at my eyes with the heel of my hands. Since we have started walking, the clarity that I had is starting to fade.  
“Nat, don’t worry. We’re fine,” She is doing it again, having to comfort me. That isn’t her job. That is my job. She is the child; I am the adult. I force myself to square my shoulders, straightening my back, feeling foolish in the sheepskin slippers. I am literally a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A strangled laugh escapes my lips.  
She doesn’t shy away from me, despite the maniacal display. Instead, her hand slips into mine. I am not strong enough to pull away.  
We reach the residential wing. Agent Barton is the only one there, sitting with three cups of coffee. He slides two to me and Wanda.  
“Too dark,” I head over to the fridge. The room is suddenly too bright, and it does nothing to help that headache that has begun to bloom. I wince, squinting.  
“Sorry, I thought you meant the light,” The pendants overhead dim once more. I pour another splash of cream into Wanda’s coffee. “So, I was thinking we could head to the farm in a little bit,”  
“No.”  
“What?” Barton stares at me. I can feel Wanda’s surprise as well. Both have paused, waiting for an explanation.  
“No,” I repeat, firmer. My hands shake, despite my steady voice, as I raise my coffee to my lips. Some of the dark liquid splashes over the edge, staining the countertop. “I can’t.”  
“Tash, you can take a few days off.”   
“Not that,” My thoughts are still moving slowly. Though I suppose I am lucky I can think at all. That isn’t what happens, happened, to the others when trigger words were used. Or the injection. No. Everyone else goes away, I get trapped beneath the surface. Other girls said it was like watching a movie in first person, not really your actions. There is no emotion attached to it. For me, I am fully aware of the control I have lost. I am taking too long to answer. They are waiting. He is always patient with me, too patient. Why can’t I go to the farm? “I’m not safe?”  
“You’re safe here, and you would be at the farm. No one is,”  
“No, stop, let me think,” I snap, putting down the cup. “I’m not,” I lick my lips, everything is slowing down again, like it had last night and this morning, “stable,” I find the word after a moment, and feel myself withering. The room is starting to spin.  
“Clint, maybe we should talk about this later,” Wanda speaks up.  
“I can hold a simple,” My stomach surges. I stumble over to the sink, expelling a mixture of coffee and acid. The marble is counter is cool against my cheek.  
“Mom,”  
“I’m fine!” I shove myself away from the counter. Wanda flinches at my tone. I yelled at her; I never yell at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” I brush past the pair of them, “I need to lie down,”  
I collapse onto my bed, grateful my suite is at the beginning of the long hallway. I close my eyes, willing my head to stop pounding.  
There is a cool, wet cloth across my forehead. I listen, hoping to be given a clue as to who is in the room with me. It is impossible that they would trust me to be alone right now. Though, they were foolish enough to leave me unrestrained last night.  
The cloth begins to slide off, and the individual is quick to replace it. A callused finger brushes my temple as they do so. Clint. I shift and open my eyes. He is sitting on the opposite side of the bed with one of his mysteries, his hearing aids out. I blink at him, trying to force myself to react. My eyes are still heavy. He smiles at me, and his expression is laced with pity.  
I drag myself up slowly and am pleasantly surprised when the room does not spin. As I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand, my hands don’t shake.  
“Where’s Wanda?” I sign.  
“She is watching a movie with the team,” He slides in his hearing aids, “How are you doing?”  
“The world feels real,” Thunderous music echoes from whatever action film is playing in the common area. “Clint,” I see relief pass over his face as I say his name, “It was so bad. Wanda, Yelena. I let Rumlow get away,”  
“Don’t say that. You didn’t, no one was expecting that. But maybe next time, bring some backup?” I nod weakly. “And I have to ask you something else. You wouldn’t let the doctors, and I saw the bruises,” he fiddles with his aids, “Did he,”  
“No. He thought he would have time later.” I can see his scarred face leering, his cruel words cutting deep now that I can think again.  
“Can you come out to the kitchen? Have some dry toast? Or maybe some chicken noodle soup? I know I saw a can,”  
“I can’t see them,”  
“Nat,”  
“No, they saw this thing that I am. Just when I think it can’t get any worse, they see one more part of this version of me, this part that I tell myself I have accepted. But Clint, how can I accept someone who tried to murder her own daughter?”  
“You didn’t try, you did the opposite. You fought to protect her, and you won. You fought against all those years of programming. You are stronger than Rumlow, Ivan, all of them. You don’t get to say that.”  
“I almost told Yelena. And I called you Agent Barton. I called Steve Captain Rogers,” I run my fingers through my hair, pausing halfway through, “Oh my God. I stripped naked in front of,” I get out of the bed. “I have to,”  
“Natasha, no one is mad at you, for anything. Let’s get you something to eat, okay? You slept all day. There is even leftover Chinese food if that’s what you’d prefer.”   
Clint opens the door to my room and waits for me to move away from the bed. I drag my feet behind him, hoping no one notices our entrance. There is no such luck.  
They pause the movie. Wanda practically runs to the kitchen, putting on a pot of tea. Maria and Sam smile at me, this same pity that I know will be accompanying everyone for the next few days. Yelena’s intelligent eyes dissect me. While Steve, he avoids looking at me at all.  
“I would like to apologize for my behavior last night. It was unprofessional and I will try my best to ensure it does not happen again.” My voice is clipped and steady, emotionless. The opposite of how I am feeling.  
“Natasha,” Maria speaks up.  
“Please. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” No one argues with me. Yelena continues to stare.  
“Nat, come on. You need to get something to eat,” Clint urges. He bumps my shoulder, and it seems to unlock my feet. I sit down at the counter and he puts two pieces of bread in the toaster while Wanda sits down next to me, so close we are practically touching. She is tense, her muscles stiff and poised for attack. She is failing spectacularly at appearing nonchalant. My lovely girl, always terrible at hiding her emotions.  
“Love, if being near me is making you uncomfortable, you can go,”  
“I’m not,” Her eyes spark red for a moment in defense.  
“Wanda,” Clint warns. I glare at my friend. He is not going to parent my daughter while I am right here. He sets down the plate of dry toast in front of me, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’m going to go join the others in the living room.  
“He could have killed you,” She pours to mugs of tea without getting up from her seat. Both float over, landing on the island without a drop spilled. “And you would have had to let him.” I think for a moment, of him dragging the knife down my chest, just because he could. Would I have let him kill me? Maybe. Probably. No. I wouldn’t have. Because of her. I made a promise to her.  
“I wouldn’t have.”  
“But the cut on your chest,”  
“Superficial. Barely counts. I wouldn’t have let him take me away from you,” But really, I should be as far away from her as possible. No. The effects of the trigger words have faded away. I am just left with the bitter taste in my mouth. The feeling of having my free will taken from my hands while I plead to hold on. “You know we were sterilized in the Red Room. All of us.”  
“Yes,” She glances over at me, taking her eyes off the darkening tea.  
“They needed to take away our ability to have children. There is nothing stronger than a mother’s love, Little Witch. Their torture, trainings, and threats have nothing on my love for you. And I will fight my hardest to never leave you.” I will fight for you until my dying breath, I add silently.

* * *

Clint returns to the farm without us, as Wanda and I will be visiting in a week. He is not comfortable with it and lingers a little longer than necessary with his goodbyes. Truthfully, I am not entirely sure of myself. I feel on edge. Yelena had left for her mission a few hours ago, accompanied by a hasty farewell. I barely see Steve, as he takes an active role in avoiding me.  
Wanda and I return to the apartment, and despite our conversation, she watches me as though I am going to disappear at any moment. Of all the reactions she could have had from the incident, this is not one I anticipated. Rather than wanting to be as far away from me as possible, she had glued herself to my side. She follows me in and out of each room I go to like a forlorn puppy.  
She only agree to some space when I tell her I need to take a shower. Instead, I fill up the bathtub. I still have control. He didn’t take it from me. Control over my own body. Its mine. I can reclaim it.  
When I step into Wanda’s bedroom, my hair still dripping with lavender water, she is hovering over her packed duffel bag. Her hands glow red, and she balls them into fists.  
“Wanda, honey,” She turns around, her eyes glowing red. “Oh love, what’s wrong?”  
“What’s wrong? You did not just ask me that!” She squeezes her fists tighter.  
“I’m sorry. I understand if you need some space,”  
“No, stop apologizing! This isn’t your fault. I don’t want to go hang out with Peter,” She tosses the full bag against the wall. It hits the ground with a thud.  
“You’ve been looking forward to it,”  
“I can’t leave you, he could come back,”  
“It is not your job to protect me. And the apartment is safe, Friday is on full alert at all times.”  
“You protect me,”  
“It’s my job as your mother,”  
“’That’s not fair! You don’t get to keep pulling that card. I am getting older, and you still hide stuff from me. You still pretend to be okay when you’re not. Mom, he _touched_ you! And you aren’t even reacting. Doesn’t it bother you?”  
“What do you want from me? I’m trying,” I allow myself to exist in the same space as her, even if part of myself tells me to get away, to protect her. My selfish side has won. “Please, be patient.”  
“Why aren’t you planning out a mission to go kill him? Why aren’t you angry?” The TV cracks.  
“I’m too tired to be angry, Wanda.”  
“Are you feeling at all? You aren’t showing anything, nothing. You have been a brick wall,”  
“Don’t speak to me like that,” I scold, “I am feeling plenty, just because you aren’t privy to everything doesn’t mean that it isn’t there.”  
“And what was up with you yelling at Yelena on the jet?” She continues, ignoring my warning.  
“Wanda, stop pushing me.”  
“Just give me something, anything!”  
“I am humiliated. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you want to hear about how I hate how everyone was looking at me when we were on the compound? How everyone was afraid I would snap at any moment. Or the fact that it was a legitimate fear for them all to have. That I melted under Steve’s praise, better yet, I stripped naked in front of the three of you. I completely unraveled in a fight against myself. I am trying my best Wanda, but you need to communicate with me, because I have no other way of knowing what it is you want.” Her eyes widen and the last of the red in her fingertips fades.  
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” Her bottom lip juts out slightly. “What he did to you, it wasn’t you fault Nat. And you fought and won,” She comes over to me, taking my arms and wrapping them around her. “You never let me be embarrassed when I lose it in front of the team. You tell me that they don’t care, that they love me.” She speaks into my chest, her voice muffled.  
“It’s different,”  
“Its not.” Wanda pulls back slightly, looking up at me. “Is that why we left the compound?”  
Because we both know I should still be there, that things are still slightly off kilter. Really, we should have gone to the farm. It is like the world is slightly out of focus, but also too sharp. She steps away, pulling out her phone and send a text before heading over to the mirror. Using the edge of her pinky, she fixes her smudged mascara.  
“I am going to stick with my plans and going to go over to Peter's,” I raise my eyebrows, “I mean, if that’s okay with you and that I can still go. But I think you should go talk to Steve, because he has been texting me all day asking for updates. The dude is a nervous wreck.”  
“He doesn’t want to see me,”  
“I promise, he does.” She pulls on her winter coat and uses her powers to take the screen off the window. A moment later, web fluid sticks to the outside, and the window slides open. Peter, or rather Spider-man, slings in. It is like a switch has flipped for Wanda. She puts on a smile and suddenly appears to be an unburdened teenager, ready for a night out. Her masks is better than Peter's, who has just pulled his off.  
“Hi Ms. Romanoff,”  
“Hello Peter,” I smile wearily. “Have fun tonight and be safe. No being vigilantes, is that understood? I will know if you two go rogue.”  
“We’re just going to have a movie night with Peter's friends.” Wanda promises. “No parties or crime fighting tonight.” She runs over and gives me another quick hug while Peter slings her duffel onto his shoulder and replaces the mask. “Bye Mom, love you!” Peter hooks an arm around her.  
“Love you too,” I wrap my arms around myself. The two fly out the window into the night, and the window glows red for a moment, sliding shut.  
Steve wants to talk to me. And I need to apologize. Calling him Captain Rogers, acting like that. I stood in front of him, nude. He saw the bruises on my breasts, he was probably disgusted. I don’t blame him. Not quite human. But too broken to be a toy. What was the song Ultron would sing? No, because I’m not free. I’ll never be free of them. And Steve just keeps seeing more. It is like I am a matryoshka, each layer is more disturbing than the next. Until my very core, where there is something twisted and inhuman where a soul should be.  
My feet move on autopilot, bringing me to my car. On the roof, he had been about to tell me something. Wanda and Yelena had been trying to play match maker. But he couldn’t feel that towards me. Ivan’s words echo in my head. Ivan. I can feel his heavy hand resting atop my head as I sit at his feet. _I’ll be a good girl, I’m your good girl_. I grip the wheel tighter, pulling me out of my thoughts. I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. Ivan doesn’t deserve to even be in my thoughts. His influence over me should be long gone. Am I free or do I still have strings? Can it be both?  
I lean my head back against the seat. Things had begun to make sense, before Rumlow. I felt good. There even seemed to be this possibility that Steve may feel the same way. I can’t even bring myself to think the word. It is likely that my display has destroyed any possibility of that happening. Because I ruin everything, I leave destruction and death in my wake. Before, I don’t know what caused him to become distant and cold towards me, but now I’ll know. And it is my fault. Perhaps I can save our friendship. Even if I want something more.  
The nails on my right hand dig into my palm and I force them out. Maybe I didn’t ruin everything. Perhaps Wanda and Yelena are right. He could feel something else. The same way I feel calm when I am with him. The night we spent entangled around each other in his bed, our heartbeats matching. Or how when we spar, it can go on for hours, we are so evenly match and know each other so well, that each movement is met with one of equal force. The fight turns out to be more like a dance, perfectly in sync. Because I know him. I know his core. I know Steve Rogers; I have always seen him first. Before Captain America. The shield came second, the man behind it came first. I need to apologize for Wednesday, and then maybe I can salvage everything.  
The compound gates swing open and I pull in. My blood pumps in my ears and my hands have begun to sweat. This is a terrible idea. I am not stable right now; I have been swinging like a pendulum two days. But I allow that small hope to bloom. A little star that I can put in my pocket.  
The engine shuts off and I climb out of the car. The halls are quiet as I walk through, and I think again of how lonely he must be. I understand what it is like to feel alone, I left him here when Wanda and I moved out. We have a schedule so that at least a few days a month, there are others, and Tony is across the lake, but there is no true companionship.  
The world melted away when we were together on the rooftop. The way he said my name, like it was the most precious treasure in existence. His eyes meeting mine. I can allow myself this. It is okay. It is okay to be open to the possibility of love.  
“Steve,” I call, stepping into the common area. There is the banging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. I smile at the thought of some of his French toast, of us laughing I try my hand at the skillet, and it being a complete disaster. Feeling brave, I rush into the room and skid to a stop. My heart leaps into my throat.  
“Nat,” Steve stares at me.  
“Hi Natasha,” Sharon Carter turns around from her seat at the counter, “How are you?”  
I stand dumbly for a moment, unbelieving. How could I be so stupid? So delusional? As if anyone, especially Steve, could feel that way about me. So, I do what I do best. I run.  
My feet silently hit the floors in the hall as I race out to my car. I was foolish and hopeful. I should have held to Ivan’s lesson. He was right.  
I ought to know better than to think that something like me should or could be loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked this chapter! Things are about to start moving at a much quicker pace after Lila's birthday, so get ready!!  
> Additionally, it is likely that there will be nothing posted between October 9th-19th, I just wanted to let you all know ahead of time!  
> As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!


	37. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you're doing well :)  
> We're starting to build up to the next big plot with this chapter and I am so excited! Nat's current story line is wrapping up in the next chapter or two, and what is coming is very Wanda focused.  
> Thank you all for reading! As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!

“I couldn’t believe I missed Wednesday, I got back from Ned's grandparents' with plenty of time. When I told Mr. Stark, I had an exam Thursday morning, I didn’t think he’d mute Karen,”  
“You didn’t miss much,” I lie, banking on the suspicion that Tony didn’t share what happened. My hunch is right, as Peter bounds up the steps of their fourth-floor walk-up. “I think I’m going to wait down here,”  
“I’m sure May would love to see you before the movie. She’ll probably be asleep when we get back,”  
“I’m only doing those stairs once tonight,” I try to sound lighthearted and teasing. Peter does the awkward shuffle that he does when he is embarrassed. “It’s fine, Pete. Really.”  
“We could stay at the tower tonight instead, I’m sure Mr. Stark wouldn’t mind,”  
“Just go drop off my bag or we’re going to miss the movie.”  
Peter returns five minutes later, now with a hat pulled on his head. He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. It has a bright red pompom on the top.  
“May told me I have to wear it,” The admission is accompanied by a groan.  
“It’s fine, it’s cute.” I smile.  
“So, we’re okay?” He asks as we walk down the street, “You know, from,”  
“I think we both said, or um thought, things that we didn’t mean.”  
“Good, this has been bothering me all week,” I feel guilty, I hadn’t thought about him since Wednesday afternoon. Our fight didn’t even cross my mind.”  
“Already forgot all about it,” Not a lie.  
“Are you okay, though? Like everything else?”  
“What do you mean?” I zip my coat up higher, regretting leaving behind my scarf. I can see it sitting on my bed at home.   
“Your eyes were red when I picked you up.”  
“Red?” Nat didn’t tell me. I didn’t feel my powers. Had a lost that much control, awareness?  
“Sorry, bloodshot.”  
“Oh, yeah. Fine, just need a good night’s sleep.” Peter looks at me doubtfully, I’m not as good of a liar as Nat.  
“There you losers are,” MJ stands up on the steps of her townhome, “Ned and Betty already got the tickets, they’re waiting out front.  
“They’re on break again,” Peter explains as we head down the street. Soon, we begin to exit the residential street and I slip on my hood. The last thing I want to attract tonight is attention. I need to prove I can have a normal night out with friends, not just to them, but to myself. Not someone who can no longer be a part of society. I can fit into the rest of the world.  
I treat everyone to popcorn and candy before we head into the theater and search for seats. The handicap spot only has one seat next to it. If Nat were here, she’d want us to sit there. Not have to struggle through going up the dark steps or trying to squeeze through the crowded rows where my leg is bound to get caught on a purse or a coat. The other teens don’t think of such things, and I am grateful.  
We sit towards the back, the theater crowded on this chilly January night. Thankfully, there are seats available on the outer edge of the row. The treats are passed around, and Betty pulls bottle of water out of her purse, which explains why it was bulging. The trailers begin to taper off as the theater’s introduction about silencing cell phones plays. My phone vibrates on queue with a text from Nat.  
_Hi love, out of the city for night. Text me if you need anything. XOXO_  
I send a quick reply and switch my phone into airplane mode, pleased with myself. Yelena will be jealous that it was me who finally got the two of them together. I can imagine the dramatic confession and am only pulled out of my thoughts when the opening scene of the action flick begins to play.  
After the movie, we head down the street to a pizza parlor, the five of us squeezing into a corner booth. The table fills with garlic knots and pizza. With the shop mostly empty at this time, I take off my hood and use my powers to pull a roll off the tray, popping it into my mouth.  
“So cool,” Ned stares.  
“Dude, you’ve known her for years,”  
“I can still think its cool,” he defends. Peter rolls his eyes good naturedly. “Now, we have a serious question,” I brace myself for something about my past or what happened at the party a few weeks ago, “Who do you think would win in a fight, Captain America or Black Widow?” I laugh at the absurdity of the question, so far from what I was expecting.  
“Wanda’s obviously going to say Black Widow,” Betty chimes in, taking a bite of her pizza.  
“I said the same,” Peter adds.  
“But he is twice her size and has the super soldier serum,”  
_Don’t_ _tell_ , I quickly direct to Peter, “Trust us, Nat would win. She’s willing to fight dirty. And, if you want to sound like a real insider, call them Cap and Widow. That’s what they are called over coms. Its only on, like, official documents that they have those names.” I wring my hands under the table, uncomfortable being the center of attention.  
“I would love to listen to those com conversations. Probably even better than those true crime podcasts.” He sighs.  
“How would you like it if we invited you out on a Friday night and only talked about your job?” MJ leans back, “Unless you’re just as interested in hearing about my afternoon shelving books at the library,”  
I am grateful for MJ as the conversation moves away from me and to the academic decathlon’s upcoming tournament.  
Peter and I arrive back at his apartment without incident. No one tried to kill me, I didn’t lose control of my powers, or my temper.  
As predicted, May is fast asleep when we walk in, despite her obvious best efforts to stay awake.  
“Tonight was fun,” Peter rummages through the refrigerator, pulling out two Cokes, “I’m glad you got to hang out with us,”  
“Me too, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to come,”  
“Why?”  
“There’s a hit out on me,” Peter chokes on his soda.  
“What? And we went out? Why didn’t you tell me? We could have watched movies back at the apartment,”  
“Because I wanted to go out. I’m not going to live my life in fear. I’m not scared of him,” I clench my fist. “I’m not afraid of them. And if Rumlow ever comes near any of us again, I will force him to rip out his own intestines and use them to strangle himself.”  
“What happened?” I don’t miss his subconscious step back at the intensity of my statement.  
“Wednesday night, the mission, it was bad.” Instantly, the fight drains out of me like a candle being snuffed. “He, they, hurt Nat.”  
“She seemed fine tonight,”  
“Yeah,” I had given Nat the impression that we were staying at Peter’s all night. Honestly, if Nat had been fully here, she probably wouldn’t have let me go in the first place. The metallic taste in my mouth grows. I may have taken advantage of her. It occurs to me now that I haven’t heard from her since her initial text before I turned off my phone.  
Which I never turned back on. I reach into my jean pockets and pull out the device, fumbling slightly as I unlock it. As soon as it latched onto a signal, it begins to flood with notifications. Nothing from Nat. That isn’t normal.  
“Wanda?”  
“She hasn’t called me or texted me,”  
“You said she was heading to the compound, right? She probably is busy sparring with Steve or something.”  
“I guess,” I look closer at the notifications I have received and see most of them are from Steve, asking if I am with Nat. If I have talked to her, “She’s not at the compound,” I get up from the dining table.  
“Where are you going? It is past midnight,”  
“She isn’t at the compound and she said she would be at the compound,” I feel my powers start to flicker.  
“She probably changed her mind or something, come on. It will be fine.”  
“You haven’t seen her the past few days. I shouldn’t have left; it was stupid of me. If anything like that happened to me, she wouldn’t leave my side for weeks. And I go out just a few days later.”  
“Wanda, she’s your mom. It isn’t your job to take care of her,”  
“Don’t take her side,”  
“Just tell Steve you haven’t seen her and why don’t you call her?” Call her. Right. I duck my head in embarrassment. Phones go both ways.  
I slip into the bathroom for some privacy and click her contact. Nat picks up on the second ring.  
“Wanda, are you okay?”  
“Yes, I’m fine. I just wanted to check in, say goodnight.”  
“Did you have fun at the movies?”  
“What?”  
“You share your location with me, love.”  
“Mom,”  
“I trust you, Wanda. I trust you to make smart decisions.” She doesn’t sound angry, or surprised.  
“You and Tony had Happy tailing us, didn’t you?”  
“Someone tried to get me to kill you a few days ago. You can’t blame me for being nervous.”  
“I was actually feeling guilty. I thought I pulled one over on you.”   
“Sorry, even when I am not all there, my thoughts are still on you.”  
“Where are you? Steve has been texting me, and you’re not at the compound, you said you were out of the city,”  
“I was thinking we could head to the farm early. Go tomorrow instead of waiting for Monday. I already bought us new tickets,”  
“But Nat,”  
“I will pick you up from Peter’s in the morning. Sleep well, love.”  
“Goodnight,” I sigh, knowing that arguing with her would be fruitless.  
Peter and I head to bed around one after an hour or so of catching up. We avoid the topic of Wednesday entirely.  
However, just because we went to bed, doesn’t mean I slept. My nightmares last night had been violent. And I know Natasha probably though it was about her. It was, but not in the way she thinks. I trust her not to hurt me, ever. What I know better than to trust is the idea that my mother is invincible. Every kid grows up thinking their parents are superheroes. Mine actually is. What kids don’t think about is that even heroes have weaknesses. And I’m hers.  
After the nightmare, she had stayed with me through the night, as she always does with the particularly bad ones. She is always putting me first, even when she shouldn’t.  
But she isn’t here now and thus, neither is her calming and reassuring presence. Instead, I am on an air mattress in Peter’s room, pinching myself every few minutes when I feel myself begin to fall asleep. I wish I had finished that soda, or maybe another kind of Coke. I hold back my snort of amusement at my own joke, not wanting to wake the sleeping hero a few feet above me.  
I wonder what could have gone wrong with Steve to cause her to run like that. She had been getting better at talking lately, outshining me leaps and bounds in personal growth. But now she has run off somewhere. Steve has probably called Clint at this point, as I did not provide any helpful information. All he will do is worry the archer, who can’t do anything a thousand miles away. It occurs to me, that Clint could be the reason we are heading out early. He might have insisted.  
I roll over, uncomfortable on the inflatable. The blue light in my phone awakens my brain as I unlock it. The flight information is in my email.  
It isn’t as though I don’t want to go to the farm, I do. I love it there, and even more so, the people who live on it. It is the fact that with Yelena gone for the weekend, Nat and I were finally going to get some alone time, which seems to be in short supply these days.  
Finally, the sun begins to creep over the horizon. I feel as though my eyes have dried out from playing games on my phone so long. May comes in around eight, announcing that she picked up bagels.  
I change into fresh clothes and watch as Peter smothers his breakfast in cream cheese.  
“So, you like having bagel with your cream cheese in the morning?” I tease. He laughs.  
“Better than yours, look how dry.” He shakes his head and moves onto the second bagel. A car catches my eye outside the window, sticking out amongst the others lining the street, as does the bright red hair of the occupant as she steps out.  
“Nat’s here,”  
“I’ll buzz her up,” May offers, rising from the table with her mug of coffee. I try to quickly finish off my breakfast, quickly downing the last of my coffee.  
“Hi May, it is nice to see you again,” Natasha greets as she steps into the apartment, “I hope Wanda didn’t cause any trouble,”  
“None at all,” she promises.  
“I’ll text you,” I tell Peter, picking up my bag. “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Parker.”  
“Any time, sweetheart.” Natasha takes my bag and I shoot her a glare. I can carry it down the stairs myself. She says another thanks and we step out of the apartment.  
“I can take it,” I try to reach for the bag.  
“Did you even sleep last night?”  
“Did you?” I counter, my bottom lip jutting out. Though I may sound a little petulant, I find I do not particularly care. She never told me where she was last night, nor did she share what happened.  
“I don’t want to fight with you this morning,”  
“Then let me carry my own bag,” Natasha shoves it to me, a little rougher than necessary, and stalks down the stairs, leaving me an entire flight behind.  
However, a minute later as I am a few steps in, Natasha arrives back beside me. Wordlessly, she takes my backpack from me once more.  
“Mom,”  
“Your suitcase is already packed, there is a driver waiting back home to take us to the airport.”  
“We aren’t waiting for Yelena?”  
“Her mission is running long. She’ll join us later this week.”  
“Why are we going now?” I ask as we exit Peter’s building, “Can we stay home for a few days?”  
“No.” Natasha throws my bag into the trunk of the car.  
“Does this have to do with Steve?”  
“Wanda, I swear to God.”  
“But Nat,”  
“We are going to the farm early because I want to. Okay? You are welcome to stay at the compound if you would prefer.” The engine purrs to life.  
“What did Steve do? Where were you last night?”  
“Give me your phone,” She doesn’t take her eyes off the road.  
“What?” I hold the device closer.  
“You have lost your phone for the flight. Instead, you are going to write a report on the early history of differential equations,”  
“That won’t even be on the AP exam!”  
“Phone. Now.” We reach a red light. I slap it into her hand.  
“How am I even supposed to research it without my phone?”  
“Grab a book from the library.” I slump back in my seat, “And sit up straight,”  
“You weren’t even looking at me,” The car jolts forward as the light turns green and I slide awkwardly in the seat, followed by shooting Nat a dirty look. She did that on purpose.  
The ride to the airport is tense, and the driver can sense it. In the rearview mirror, I can see beads of sweat dripping from his hairline.  
“I cannot believe you are going to have me spend the flight writing a paper on the history of math.”  
“It is a two-page report. You will be fine.”  
“I should have stayed at the compound with Steve, at least he would tell me what happened,”  
“Do you want to lose your phone for the whole week? Because I can make that happen,” I’m too old to have my phone taken away. This is ridiculous. We arrive at the airport, and Natasha thanks the driver by name, he must be one of Tony’s employees, which explains the lack of NDA as we walk away.  
We wait at the terminal for first class to be called. She said we were too late to go wait in the lounge. The number of people around us feels suffocating. Natasha stands up and I grab onto her hand.  
“I’m just going to get you a tea from Dunkin Donuts, you’ll be able to see me the whole time,” She gently peels off my fingers and goes over to the coffee shop a few yards away.  
“You’re Scarlet Witch,” I jump, surprised by the voice. Two kids stand in front of me, their mother standing behind them.  
“Hi,” I pull the sleeves over my sweater over my hands.  
“Can we have your autograph?” One of them holds out a pen, and my handshakes as I reach for it. Quickly, a scribble across the piece of paper presented to me.  
“Show us your powers,” the other asks. My heart races.  
“I don’t think that is a good idea,”  
“My mom says it is rude to whisper in public,” the first boy exclaims. “Just show us your powers,” I look for Nat, but the crowd, combined with her small stature, causes me to lose sight of her. I sink lower into my seat.  
“Just do something small for them,” The mother pulls out her phone. “Make the pen float, or guess what their names are,”  
“I, um, I,” I feel my eyes quickly flash before I force down the powers once more.  
“It is the least you could do, you are an Avenger,” She says the name louder and heads swivel our way. People begin to surge forward.  
“Are you here with Black Widow? With the whole team? Where are you going?” Different voices call out. “Wanda, show us a trick!”  
I look around for an escape, my heart beating faster. My eyes catch on the window. Nat appears beside me, but I hardly notice, running towards the glass panel.  
I shatter the glass and jump through, my powers flowing freely. The screaming and alarms fade into the background as I see the plane free falling.  
It is still high in the sky, but if I let it gain any more momentum, it is unlikely that I would be able to stop it. I drop into a fighting stance and put my hands out in front of me. Deep breath.  
The plane glows red high in the sky and slows to a controlled descent. I can feel the strain, my powers working at maximum capacity. It isn’t far now. A few thousand feet. A few hundred. The wheels touch the tarmac, and finally, the plane comes to a stop.  
Cheers erupt behind me. I turn around, huffing. My shoulders drooping. A crowd has gathered around the broken window, and more are pressed up against glass throughout the terminal. Hundreds of cameras are trained on me. I feel exhaustion taking over, and Natasha is instantly by my side, wrapping an arm around me, propping me up.  
“Little Witch,” Natasha breathes, “My brave, wonderful, lovely Little Witch,” She kisses my forehead. “That was amazing. I had no clue your powers,”  
“Me neither,” I limp heavily, my leg having shifted in the landing of my jump. It is at least a twenty-foot drop, I don’t know how Nat got down here. The whole ordeal lasted less than five minutes, but it feels as though it was hours.  
“The most powerful Avenger,” she praises.  
“Mom,” I hide my face in her shoulder as I see the airline workers filming us. Someone comes closer, walking with authority. However, as he gets closer, his nerves show. He bows slightly when he reaches us, shaking as well.  
“Ms. Maximoff, on behalf of all of us at JFK,” I am so tired, like I could sleep for days.  
“Love, come on,” Natasha breaks me from my daze, “We’re getting on the plane,”  
We are led through cargo and up a staircase, appearing in the cockpit. The two pilots shake our hands. I hear Nat jokingly ask if she can fly. They seem almost like they want to say yes. I am falling asleep standing up.  
“Let’s take this off,” Natasha pulls off my leg, “I am so proud of you. I’m sorry I was short with you,”  
“I pushed,” I put up the armrest between us, and Nat slides up the divider, separating us from the rest of the plane. She leans in as I rest my head on her shoulder, running her fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry for not respecting your privacy,”  
“I will tell you where I was later, okay? For now, rest. You just saved two hundred people on that plane, who knows how many more on the ground. My hero, my girl,”  
“You and me,” I mumble into her chest.  
“Sleep, Little Witch. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I know it was a bit of a filler for the first 3/4, and there are so many questions still about Nat, but they will be addressed next chapter!  
> As I said, it is unlikely I will be able to post again between now and the 19th (though I will try). I'm going away for a wedding this weekend, then I have midterms, followed by vacation, and my birthday!  
> Stay safe, and to my American 18+ readers, please remember to vote!! 
> 
> Also, this series has a tumblr now! I have no clue how to use Tumblr (I’ve never had an account before lol) but if you all want to reach out, ask questions, make requests, it’s there!  
> https://natandwandaseries.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you all again!


	38. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all- I'm back! I hope you have all had a wonderful two weeks and I'm so excited to be posting again. I got a lot of writing done over my hiatus- unfortunately you will not see a lot of it for a few weeks (or months)!  
> This chapter is long (6400 words!) and dialogue heavy, but so much care was put into it. I have worked insanely hard on it and I love it so much, I hope you will too.  
> As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated 
> 
> Thank you all for following along with the series 💕

Wanda shifts beside me on the plane. She has been asleep on my shoulder for more than half the flight now. When I picked her up from Peter’s, she had bags under her eyes. And I know she has not slept well since the incident with the mission on Wednesday. I can’t help butt think that I am bad for her, despite her insistence otherwise, and the evidence as she glues herself to my side every chance she gets. A yawn takes over her features, and she stretches, slowly waking up, before snuggling back into my side.   
“How close?”  
“About an hour and a half left,”  
“Mhm,” she nods and lifts her head, her soft blue eyes staring up at me. A question had been nagging me for the better part of the flight.  
“How did you know to save the plane? It was impossible to see it from where we were standing,” I hadn’t known what was going on as she parted the crowd like the Red Sea and ran towards the windows. Perhaps she had needed to get out, and my arrival was too late. But that had clearly not been the case.  
“I heard them,” The replies after a moment, twirling the rings on her fingers. “I’m sure you saw, I was starting to lose control,” I had seen her eyes were glowing red with continuing intensity, and even her hands had begun to glow. “I could hear everyone in the terminal, all of them. And then, well, you know when we _talk_? And you project your thoughts? The people on the plane above us felt their engine give out and started to pray. They were projecting their thoughts, whether they knew it or not. I heard them.” She bites her lip. I had to get out there and stop the plane from crashing, and I didn’t have time to warn anyone,” She begins to build up to an apology.   
“Love, you were amazing, and I am so proud of you for saving all those people. And I am sorry for leaving you at the gate, I should have stayed,”  
“You apologize too often,”  
“I have made a lot of mistakes,”  
“You’re only human,” No, Little Witch, I’m not. But she does not hear my thought and turns to look out the window, her thick braid falling over her shoulder. “Does Lila have any idea that Clint got her a pony?”  
“None, so don’t spoil the surprise,” I tease. Wanda pulls up a TV show for us to watch for the remainder of the flight. She does not question where I was last night, nor pester me about what happened with Steve. But is all my mind can focus on as she explains the premise of a new sitcoms about a community college she has recently started.  
The plane touches down in Des Moines and I get our rental car. The SUV is better suited for snowy Iowa than the sport-style vehicle we usually rent.  
“You should just keep a car here,”  
“Probably,” I agree, loading our suitcases into the back. The hour-long drive is spent with Wanda chatting about a wide range of subjects- from her homework to Yelena’s plan to get me a cat.  
“She is not getting me a pet,”  
“I think she might,” Wanda pulls her legs up onto the seat, “And you have kept me alive, how hard can a cat be?”  
“Do not encourage her,” We pull up to the farm and Friday scans our faces before the deceivingly simplistic gate creaks open. I feel almost normal. Almost back to myself. Like that version of the Black Widow has been pushed back down. Now, only my version, my approved version, remains.  
The gravel driveway is muddy with slush as the temperature pushes just over freezing. Lucky races beside the car as we get closer to the farmhouse, and I spy Laura and the kids out on the front porch, Nicole absent and likely down for a nap.  
“Auntie Nat, I’m out of pull-ups!” Nate announces as we get out of the car. Lila jumps up and down excitedly, sporting a Cinderella dress over her purple pajamas.  
“Natasha,” I turn and see Clint, coming from the general area of the barn. He throws his arms around me. I escape the embrace quickly, surprised. “I’m sorry, I’m so glad you’re okay,”  
“Don’t do that,” I shake my head.  
“Nat, I was worried sick,”  
“Can we not do this in front of everyone?” I look over at the kids, who are watching Clint and I interact.  
“Right,” His concern for me seemed to have won over any respect of privacy.  
“Who wants to come in and have some muffins? They are fresh out of the oven,” Laura rounds everyone up. Wanda casts me one worried glance before following the crew inside.  
“We need to talk,” Clint looks at me pointedly. I cross my arms in annoyance but follow him to the barn. It is considerably warmer inside than out. A corner of the space has been filled with equestrian items, from clothes to a saddle.  
“Isn’t Lila going to get suspicious?”  
“She doesn’t come out here anymore,” Clint shrugs, but I can tell it bothers him. This was their space. I walk over to the weapons cabinet, and he makes no move to stop me as I pull out one of my spare sets of throwing knives. The familiar strike of the knife hitting the wood target releases some of the tension in my shoulders. I roll them backwards, relishing the feeling of my blood flowing. “Wanda is all over the news,”  
“I know. She is not thrilled about it, didn’t want to talk about it in the car.”  
“It is all good things,”  
“I don’t think she wants any recognition,”  
“So, the opposite of Tony?” I know what he is doing, and I don’t like it. Build up a rapport. Find common ground. Lighthearted joke. “I’m not treating this like an interrogation Nat, I know that is what your mind goes to.”  
“This is an interrogation though,”  
“No. I am your best friend, and I was worried sick. This is the second time this week I have gotten a call from Steve with him freaking out. I thought you went on a bender, that you were going to be gone.”  
“I don’t do that anymore, you know I don’t. I worked really hard,”  
“No one heard from you. What was I supposed to think?”  
“I talked to Wanda,” Clint runs his fingers through his hair, “And I texted you when I got the plane tickets.”  
“Nat, that was at four o’clock this morning. You had been missing since ten,”  
“Also, as far as I know, I am an adult who does not need to inform you of my whereabouts every waking minute,” The knife flies out of my hand, embedding itself handle first into the wood.  
“I know, I just care about you. And you have had a rough few days, understandably. If you needed to,”  
“I didn’t kill anyone,” I snarl, stalking over to the target, “I’m not a mindless killing machine,” I pull the knife out by the blade, slicing my hand, “Most of the time.”  
“Have you got out all your anger on the target so we can have an actual conversation?” He tosses me a roll of gauze, “Or do you need to spar a bit?”  
“I can talk to you without it being violent.”   
“Are you sure?” Clint raises his eyebrows and I toss back the reminding gauze, hitting him in the chest. He laughs and loads it back into his first aid kit. I lock up the knives and we are quiet in each other’s company for a while.  
“I went to see Steve,” I break the silence.  
“I know that much. Got enough panicked phone calls from the guy,” I ruined his date, and Clint’s night. “What happened?”  
“I went to see Steve and he had company.” I sit down on a bale of hay. “Sharon was there.”“  
Sharon Carter?” I nod. “What were they doing? Steve didn’t mention she was there.”  
“Steve was making crepes, I think. I didn’t stay long enough to really see. I feel so stupid. How could I think,” I lean back against the wall, a slight draft creeping in from outside.  
“Do you know why she was there?”  
“Yes,”  
“Did you ask?”  
“I didn’t need to ask, I know.”  
“So, you have Wanda’s powers now? How’d you get them? Through osmosis?”  
“I went to see him,” I implore him to understand, to not make me say it. “Wednesday, he came to dinner, before everything. And I thought,”  
“You had a purpose in mind when you went to see Steve. This wasn’t one of your normal visits,” There is no hint of a question in his tone.   
“Ivan was right. I thought, but no. I can’t. He knew. I should have known. My thoughts have been tangled, I got mixed up. It was a bad idea. I should have known better.”  
“I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again.” I look up, shocked by the ferocity in his voice, “He was never right about you. Never. His name doesn’t even deserve to be spoken.”  
“You don’t understand. I should know better, it was a lesson,”   
“Like how when he had you kill that little girl to get over your aversion to killing kids?”   
“Don’t bring her up,” Viola, Drakov’s daughter. The lesson didn’t work. He stood beside me, instructing every move. “It didn’t work.”  
“Because his lessons were bullshit, Nat, and you knew that in your heart. Just like whatever lesson you’re are referencing now. You are more than what they made you to be, so much more.”  
“But still not enough.” I rise from my seat, “Let’s go inside so I can properly greet the kids.”  
“Nat,”  
“This conversation is over, Clint.”  
“I could invite him out here,” He offers, following me out of the barn.   
“Don’t you dare,” I spin around on my heel. “This is my problem,”   
“I just hate to see you like this,”  
“Like what?” I bristle.  
“Heartbroken.”  
I find everyone in the kitchen, eating the aforementioned muffins. Wanda offers me a bite, but I wave it off, opting instead for a cup of coffee.  
“We are having spaghetti for dinner, I hope that is okay.”  
“Sounds wonderful, Laur.” I smile at my friend. Lila gets up from her chair, and her balance wavers, but Lucky is right there to steady her. It is easy to forget that she was at death’s doorstep, as she looks so much like herself now.  
“When is Auntie Lena coming? I was texting her about my new circuit board,” Cooper fidgets with some piece of tech sitting on the table.   
“She should be here by Wednesday. She is on a mission,”  
“Just in time for my birthday,” Lila takes another bite of her muffin.  
“Cooper has sign language classes after school twice a week now,” Clint joins us at the table, “And his teacher said he is killing it,”  
“Dad,” Cooper groans.  
“And don’t forget baseball training starts this week,” Laura adds, wiping Nate’s face free of crumbs and butter.   
“How could I forget? I’m the coach,” Clint picks up his phone and I watch him add ‘baseball training’ to his calendar.  
“Wanda, how is school going? Is Nat running you ragged?”  
“Almost. I think she forgets we aren’t all super geniuses like her,” Wanda replies to Laura, wiping her hands on the napkin on her lap.  
“You speak eleven languages. I would qualify you as a super genius, love.”  
“How many do you speak?” She replies, jesting.  
Lila brings Wanda and I up to her room after our snack, wanting to show us her latest art project.  
“It is our family,” she explains, holding up the large piece of paper. In the drawing is the Barton Clan, plus Yelena, Wanda, and me. She had painstakingly taken the time to add detail to Wanda’s leg, drawing in the joints. I look at her vision of me. It is obvious which one of us I am, with bright red hair. However, while everyone else’s mouths are upturned, mine is a flat line.  
“What am I the only one who isn’t smiling, Lila-Bear?”  
“That isn’t how you show you’re happy. You smile when you’re sad too.” That hurts. That my niece knows how broken I am, how much of a liar. Lila looks up at me, her expression warm. “Look, you are pressed against Dad, and have a hand on Wanda. You show you’re happy different ways,” I look and see she is right.  
“Well, aren’t you a little Hawkeye.” She child seems to burst with pride, her cheeks flushing. Wanda joins Lila on the ground to play ponies, the teen is an exceptionally good sport when it comes to her little cousins, and I head up the stairs to Cooper’s room.  
The attic space is spotless, likely courtesy of Laura rather than the preteen. He had made his way up here while Lila showed us her work, and chews on a pencil, leaning over a textbook.  
“Hard problem?”  
“Pre-geometry,” Cooper spins around in his chair, “You were probably younger than me when you learned calculus,”  
“Nope, learned calculus at thirteen.” I walk over to his desk. A cracked rubber spider serves as a paperweight. It must be nearly ten years old now.  
“Dad said you were sick, that’s why he had to fly out in the middle of the night. I saw Tony’s jet arrive.”  
“I wasn’t feeling well, and I needed him,”  
“He was crying. You weren’t having-a-cold-sick, were you?”  
“No, but I am better now. Your dad helped me a lot.”  
“Will you stay longer this time?”  
“Sorry, Coop. We are only staying until Sunday. I have to work. But we’re planning a family vacation for April or May. A week of uninterrupted Auntie Nat,”  
“I wish you were coming on our vacation in two weeks instead.”  
“That’s just a special one for your siblings and parents. You guys haven’t been to Disney since Lila was a baby,”  
“You mean after Dad had his mind controlled?”  
“Hey, that wasn’t his fault,” I step forward, smoothing back Cooper’s hair. “Your dad has more than made up for that,”  
“I know, it was just bad here. You know?” I nod, “People at school say really bad things about him, and Wanda, and you.”  
“Our jobs are dangerous, and we have some pretty bad pasts,”  
“I got in a fight this week.” He admits, crossing his arms. “They made fun of him, for getting controlled by Loki,”  
“Do your parents know?”  
“No. It was outside of school, on my way home from the bus stop.”  
“Did you win?”  
“Auntie Nat, you aren’t supposed to ask that,” Cooper rolls his eyes, “I did, of course.” He puffs up his chest, but it quickly deflates, “It isn’t fair. The way everyone talks about all of you. Like you’re not real people.”  
“It comes with the job. And I know your dad and Wanda are two of the best people I have ever met, no matter what some eleven-year-old punk says. And because I have to be a responsible adult sometimes, use your words, not your fists next time.”  
“Are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”  
“You know I have to, otherwise you wouldn’t have told me. So really, I think you are trying to get out of telling them yourself,”  
“Please Auntie Nat,”  
“You got to do it, bud. Sorry. I can be there when you do, if you’d like.”  
“No,” he sighs heavily, opening up his textbook once more. “You know, I saw what Wanda did, it was all over, well everywhere,”  
“Yes, let’s not bring it up to her, okay?”  
“But it was awesome! She is more powerful than the Hulk and Steve _combined_ ,”  
“Still, unless she brings it up,” I do a locking motion at my lips. He nods. I make my way down the attic stairs and pass by Lila’s room, where I hear laughter erupting from behind the door, and a red glow escaping out the bottom.  
When I enter the living room, Laura and Clint are gathered around the TV, Nate playing at their feet, and Nicole on a playmat. I get closer, taking a seat beside Clint on the couch.  
There is a split screen on the news- one half is a newscaster in an expensive suit with a cheap tie, on the other is Secretary Ross. I just catch the tail end of the anchor's statement,  
“-opinions on Wanda Maximoff, also known as Scarlet Witch,”  
“In general, I don’t believe that America, and the world frankly, has done enough to monitor and limit enhanced individuals. Just look at Ms. Maximoff’s display today.”  
“She did save at least two hundred people in the air, and countless more on the ground,”  
“Yes, but what’s to say she will be on our side tomorrow? This is the biggest display of powers we have seen from their kind. Wanda Maximoff is no longer a child, and the growth in her powers shows that. I think it is time that we revisit how to monitor and limit her powers, or at least keep them in check.”  
“Turn it off.” I get up from the sofa, “I don’t want her to see this, turn it off,” Clint fumbles for the clicker and the screen goes black.  
“Nat,”  
“We just had a meeting about the team a few weeks ago. He is posturing.”  
“He is just trying to get a rise out of you and the rest of us,” Clint assures me, “Right, Laur?” Clint looks over to her. She nods.  
“If anyone can keep her safe, you can.”  
“I have to call Steve,” I sigh and head into Clint’s office, shutting the door behind me. On the wall, he has a shadowbox I had made for him. It holds an assortment of found arrowheads, hundreds of years old.  
I close the door behind me and sit down at the desk, before standing up again, pacing back and forth as I pull up his contact. A dozen missed calls, the number of ignore texts is double. The phone barely has a chance to ring.  
“Nat,” He is breathless, and if I didn’t know better, I would think there is relief in his tone.  
“Have you seen the news?”  
“Wanda, yes. She was amazing, I’m so proud. You must be,”  
“No. I mean did you just see Ross’s interview?” He is quiet for a moment, likely reading a recap.  
“I will email Ellis, make sure Pepper and Maria are on it. You know how he is, all bark.”  
“I know but,” With the small confines of the space, my pacing is beginning to feel more like turning in circles.  
“Nat, can we talk?”  
“We just did,”  
“About last night,”  
“Who would’ve thought you could go on a date without my help?” I choke out, trying to sound lighthearted, teasing. I’m not as good as faking it as I used to be.  
“Wait, Natasha,”  
“I’m going to go, I should check on Wanda. Bye Steve.” I end the call quickly before I can listen to any hurried explanations, or worse have to listen to him thank me for setting them up all those years ago. The phone starts to ring again, and I send it to voicemail, but the box is full.  
Back out in the living room, Nate has begun building a block tower. I sit down beside him, assisting, while the two other adults on the property give me a knowing look.  
“Tash,”  
“I was thinking we could get takeout for dinner. Wanda and I could pick it up.” I place a block at the base of the tower, “It’s all about a good foundation, Nate. You have to have a strong foundation or everything else falls apart,” The toddler looks at me and takes a swipe at the budding structure, sending wooden blocks spewing in all directions.  
There is the sound of three sets of feet on the main stairs and I hear a misstep, followed by a gasp from Cooper. Laura, Clint, and I are all up on our feet instantly with Laura heading for a first aid kit and Clint and I towards the stairs. However, this proves not to be necessary as we spy Lila floating in the air, her eyes wide as red cushions her like a cloud before she is gently lowered to the ground. Laura runs out from the hall closet and freezes when she sees no tears.  
“Wanda caught her,” Clint explains, “Two for two today,” I shoot Clint a glare, but Wanda does not seem upset, just her normal bashful self when she receives compliments.  
“Can you do me next?” Cooper asks, running to the top of the stairs and poised to jump.  
“No. Cooper, get down here,” Laura raises her eyebrows at her eldest child. He huffs and stomps down the stairs, sticking his tongue out at Lila and ruffling her hair.  
“Dad, can we go out to the barn and show Wanda my bow?” Lila asks, recovering from the shock of flying. I swear, a bead of sweat trickle down from Clint’s forehead.  
“How about this weekend? It is kind of crappy out,” Lila looks out the window, where it is bright and sunny, even a bit warm for February. She turns to her dad, narrowing her eyes.  
“Actually, Lila, Wanda and I are going to go pick up dinner in a little while. Maybe we can go to the party supply store first and get decorations for this Saturday?” The girl nods and settles in beside Nate on the floor, who had begun rebuilding his tower to tear down again.  
That evening, we go to the party store and Lila fills a cart with both Avenger’s and pony decorations. It is only through much negotiation that I am able to talk her out of a life-sized cutout of me, instead getting one of Clint. Wanda said the Black Widow standup was not truly life-sized, as the cardboard was two inches taller.  
We gathered around the table, littered with Mexican takeout, with Laura promising home cooked meals for the rest of our stay.  
It storms for the next few days, freezing rain pelting down upon the roof of the house. Icy pellets tap against the windows, and Wanda, who normally sleeps so well at the farm, is kept awake by lightning. But by Thursday, Lila’s birthday, Wanda is well-rested once more, and even I could consider myself at least getting an adequate amount of sleep. Steve has given up on calling. Cooper has gone to school, and Nate to daycare, when a car pulls onto the farm. The flaming red sportscar sticks out against the neutral backdrop of cornfields and wheat. It is sparkling and clean, not yet muted and veiled by salt spraying up from the melted snow. It is impossible to doubt for a moment who it could be.  
She climbs out from the car in clothing hardly appropriate for the weather- a t-shirt and jeans. The heals of her boots sink into the gravel as she marches up to the porch with a duffel slung over her shoulder.  
“Happy birthday, Lila,” Yelena signs to Lila, who grins at her aunt. She begins to sign to her rapidly, but Yelena stops her, “I not Auntie Nat, she the wizard with languages. Give me few months,” Wanda translates for her and Lila nods, no less enthused, and drags Yelena into the house.  
“Hey, welcome back. How was the mission?” Clint asks, looking up from his StarkPad.  
“Longer than expected, and more satisfying,” She cracks her knuckles.  
“Today is my actual birthday, but we’re celebrating on Saturday,” Lila explains, once again being translated by Wanda. After everyone is properly caught up with Yelena, they break back into their routines, with the girls going back to schoolwork. I sit in my room, with _Jane Eyre_ as company, awaiting my sister’s arrival.  
“You not even greet me,” I look up from the book as Yelena stands in the doorway, hands on her hips. She had removed her muddy boots by the door, at Laura’s gentle suggestion, revealing socks that read ‘Hellraiser’.  
“You didn’t greet me first,” I reply. She strolls into the room and goes over to my bed, picking up a throw pillow, and hugs it to her chest. Then, she turns to me, sitting in my armchair, and whacks me with the pillow.  
“You stupid,” She hits me again.  
“Yelena!” I scold.  
“You idiot!” I rip it from her hands. “What were you thinking?”  
“What was I thinking? What the hell? You just assaulted me with a pillow,”  
“You lucky it wasn’t butt of gun!” She huffs, glaring at me.  
“Is this because I left for the farm early? I’m sorry we didn’t wait for you. To be fair, your mission did go long,”  
“No Tasha, you run away from your boyfriend and he call me. On mission. You lucky my phone was off. _He_ lucky.”  
“I am not talking about this with you,”  
“Then we talk about what you say to me on quinjet about blood. Those are options.” I walk over to my bookcase, sliding the novel back into its place.  
“Neither. Lena, I am tired.”  
“You avoiding. You avoid everything. Confront head on, like bull.”  
“Steve had Sharon over,”  
“Da,” Yelena nods. She’ll always let me have my choices.  
“His friend, or they were more than that at one point. Still are.”  
“You know this?”  
“Stop, I know you conspired with Clint,” I pinch the bridge of my nose.  
“Actually no, I talk to Mr. America when I drop off quinjet. He ask if I talk to you. Very upset, wonders what he did wrong. He had hangover even,”  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,”  
“He ask if you listen to voicemails, read his texts,”  
“Do you remember Alexei?” Yelena stiffens, and something imperceptible passes over her face, but it is gone in an instant. I almost wonder if I imagined it. “The lesson, and I can’t. No one can.”  
“What about me? Can someone love me?” Yelena asks, her eyes bright as she stalks forward, we are nearly nose to nose. “Or should I know better?”  
“That lesson wasn’t for you,” I step back, almost against the wall.  
“Anything for you, for me too.” She stares off for a second, her mouth pressed thin. “Tasha, he love you so much. Let him.”  
Yelena does not bring up Steve again, nor what I said on the quinjet. I held up my end of the deal, no matter how poorly it went. Lila’s birthday evening is without incident. She is given her presents, save for the big one coming on Saturday. My gift is a My Little Pony set, personalized as the Avengers. There was quite a bit of legal paperwork to get them made. The other gifts were equally thoughtful, and Lila was beaming at the end of the night.  
Saturday comes and Lila wakes me up like she used to when she was younger, climbing onto my bed and jumping. Now, Nate joins her. She is wearing her Black Widow nightgown, and Nate a faded Ironman onesie that used to be Cooper’s.  
“Auntie Nat, it is time for the party,” Lila signs, collapsing next to me on the bed.  
“I think that is this afternoon,” She rushes me out of bed anyway, and I enter the kitchen where Clint is already working on breakfast. I hear friendly debate between Wanda and Cooper as they join us, sitting down at the table and reaching for the boxes of cereal.  
When breakfast ends, we begin to prep for the party, which will be taking place in the dining room and sunroom. Though, it will undoubtably spill over into the rest of the house.  
The party is much smaller than originally planned by Lila months ago- less than half the size. This will be her first time seeing most of her friends since November, according to Laura. Only her best friend Chloe and ‘boyfriend’ Henry have been over. She takes a nap before everyone comes over, though these naps are becoming shorter and less frequent. By one o’clock, the first guest has arrived.  
The kids walk in the shiny boxes adorned with bows, and all wear their best clothes. The parents marvel at Wanda and I. Clint is old news to them at this point, and Yelena is too new for them to be starstruck. We also finally get to me the famous Henry, who had been working hard to learn sign language, apparently in Cooper’s after school class. The seven-year-old is serious and methodical, the complete opposite of Lila, but follows her around like a planet it orbit, catching her each time she nearly stumbles, while she allows him the first swing at the piñata.  
Yelena and Wanda whisper back and forth, pausing when I approach them. My daughter looks guilty, confirming my suspicions that they were talking about me. I raise my eyebrow, waiting for one to crack.  
“You wore shorts and tank to breakfast,” Yelena states.  
“Lena,” Wanda groans, facepalming.  
“Is good,” she defends. Even now, the shirt I wear is three-quarter sleeves, the scars on my arms are almost entirely faded, as are the burns on my legs. The only one that really remains is from when they had to scrape my bone.  
“It is just nice to see you feeling comfortable again,” Wanda adds quietly.  
“Nat, I need your help out back,” Clint calls. I follow him out to the barn. The sky has become overcast, threatening snow as the temperature begins to drop.  
“I hope this riding place is indoors,” I look to him.  
“It is. I put a lot of thought into this, Nat.”  
“I know, it is going to go well.” Clint pretends to do thing around the barn for a few minutes, “I think they are done with cake, we can head back inside,”  
“I was not,”  
“It’s fine, come on,” I nudge him as we head back towards the house.  
“Nat, if you don’t want to come, I know your past with horses,”  
“What? I learned to ride when I was in the Red Room, but it is nothing,”  
“Chantilly,” He says the word furtively, as though it is a swear.  
“It was the people I had a problem with, not the animals. If I weren’t comfortable with something, I’d tell you,”  
“Sure you would. And Lucky can fly.”  
The party comes to an end and Henry is the last to be picked up. He gives Lila a kiss on the cheek, and Lila slides a candy bracelet on her wrist.  
“I think in first grade that means they are married,” Wanda jokes. We all help clean up from the party and are pulling out of the driveway just as it nears four o’clock, piling into two cars.  
“Wanda we’re going horseback riding,” Lila pulls Wanda out of the car and the witch looks to me anxiously. She has never seen a horse in person, let alone ridden one.  
“It’s okay love,” I rub her shoulder as we wait for Clint and Laura to come back from being with the woman who owns the stable. Yelena stands by Cooper, as they discuss the circuit board he had previously mentioned.  
“You don’t have to be afraid of horses, they are friendly.” Lila promises. Clint and Laura come out a moment later with a beautiful cream-colored pony. The little girl’s mouth drops open. “She is beautiful, look at her!” Lila releases Wanda’s hand and instead tugs me towards the animal.  
“What do you think of her Lila?” Clint asks.  
“I get to ride her? What’s her name?” She looks to the woman holding the reigns. Clint translates.  
“You get to name her, sweetheart.” Laura smiles.  
“Clara,” Lila finger spells without hesitation.  
“Clara it is,” She is already wearing part of her present, the new riding gear, but is yet to learn that the horse is hers. Her parents watch her with open love and admiration as she begins to ride, rather confidently for it being her first time on a horse in three months.  
Clint and Cooper end up joining, mounting horses, while Laura and takes countless pictures, and Yelena tries to wrangle Nate and watch Nicole. Wanda is nowhere to be seen. I rush through the halls and out of the indoor ring before stumbling across her in the barn, staring at a Clydesdale that towers over her, leaning over its gate, likely hoping for a treat.  
“I’m sure he’d just like a snack,” She jumps, and I feel guilty for startling her.  
“They are so big, in my head, they weren’t this big.” I step forward and pet the creature, its warm brown eyes blink at me. I hold out some hay and its lips tickle the palm of my hand.  
“Do you want to try?” Wanda looks down at the hay and back up at the horse, before picking up a fistful of hay. “Lay your palm out flat,” She nods seriously and thrusts out her arm. Her eyes widen in surprise and a giggle escapes her lips. It is so out of character to hear such a light, happy sound leave her lips, I find myself laughing as well, joy flooding my heart. She tentatively goes to brush the bridge of his nose and the horse leans into it.  
“He is sweet,”  
“That would be why his name is Tupelo, after the honey,” I look at the carved nameplate, painted with a bumblebee.  
“I’m not ready to ride one,” Wanda rushes to say before I could consider offering, “Maybe some other time, not today.” She stands up straighter, “Sorry for running off, I was a little scared of that giant beast of an animal that Yelena chose to ride,” I think of the giant black stallion that Yelena had chosen. Wanda likely came face to face to Tupelo by mistake.  
“We should head back in, I’m sure they are wondering where we went,” We walk through the small path, and I take off my scarf, wrapping it around Wanda, who sends me a grateful smile.  
“Do you think there is a lot of good I haven’t experienced yet? Like just now, having a horse eat of my hand. Simple little things that I didn’t know I should experience.”  
“I think that is the reason for living, love. It is for those little events that come along and make the world a little brighter,” I untuck her thick ponytail from the scarf and is sweeps across her back.  
Inside, Lila has just dismounted her horse and comes hurdling towards us, with a nervous Laura tailing behind.  
“It is my horse,” Lila signs quickly, “Mine. They bought it for me,” She dances excitedly, twirling. Clint scoops her up into the air and she squeals with glee as she is placed on his shoulders. The horse farm is only a five-minute drive from the Barton’s, and just as we pull onto the property light snowflakes begin to fall. Yelena, Wanda, and I reach the house before the other’s, their car just a few yards behind. The headlights shine onto the porch, illuminating a figure who sits hunched over on the steps. He raises his head and meets my eyes.  
We step out of the car, and my two passengers instantly abandon me and shepherd everyone else in through the backdoor, avoiding the porch entirely. The snow has started to become heavier, and I feel the tiny crystals balancing on my cheeks.  
He has since risen from the steps, his hands shoved in his pockets. I turn off the car and the headlights go out. We are ushered into semi-darkness, a glow from the porch light guides me towards him like a beacon.  
“Natasha,” He says my name as though it were spun of gold, like it is precious, priceless. As though it means the world to him.  
“How long have you been waiting?” He wears the shearling lined leather bomber I love so much, and the worn sweater that we share peaks out around the collar.  
“I’m sorry for showing up unannounced,”  
“You’re always welcome here,” My voice sounds fragile and delicate, two things I am not. It must be the cold, that makes everything seems as though it is made of ice, like it could shatter.  
“You weren’t answering my calls,”  
“I couldn’t,” I tell him honestly. Snow has begun to gather in his hair, and once again, he has put himself into the cold for me. “We should get inside,”  
“Please,” He asks. His hand touches the small of my back and leads us up to the porch, out of the path of the building blizzard. I reach down towards the small chest by the front door, procuring a tartan blanket and go on my toes to drape it over his shoulders. He smiles at me, his Steve smile.  
“I’m sorry for running. I shouldn’t have done that,”  
“I understand now why you did, what it looked like. It wasn’t that.”  
“I know.” Because I do. The logical part of me knows that it likely had something to do with the CIA or with the Avengers. But going to see him that night had been anything but logical. It was emotional, passionate. The mind does not exist in matters of the heart.  
“Natasha,” He says it again.  
“Steve,” I answer, and I notice now that I hold his name in my mouth the same way he holds mine. “I don’t,”  
“I see you,” he interrupts gently, “I see all of you.” He bends his head, his forehead rests against mine. “You are all things to me, all the time.”  
I reach forward, linking my arms around his neck. His lips press against mine, warm and soft. The blanket wraps around me with his arms. My heartbeat slows. His embrace is warm and familiar. We pull apart, and he looks at me so tenderly, with such unmistakable love.  
“I adore you.”


	39. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you have had a wonderful weekend!  
> This chapter is fairly short as it is all fluff, and I'm not the best with making fluff long lol  
> But I have to warn you, this will be the last bit of fluff for a while as things are about to get dark, but they will also shift focus back to Nat and Wanda.  
> Also, I lost a few subscribers this week and I was wondering if there is anything I have stopped doing that you all miss? Please let me know!!  
> I have also begun to post mini AUs of the Nat and Wanda series on the series' Tumblr if you all want to check it out :)  
> And as always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!

I uttered the words in a burst of courage. The last time I had said them, he had been asleep, or that was likely. But now, there was no chance that he did not hear them. I instantly wish I could take them back. Remove the words from having ever been spoken. They are final. There is no room for interpretation. I did not say love but adore. Because I do. I adore the way he looks to me whenever someone in the same room makes a joke. I adore his gentle smile and the way his eyebrows knit together when he is working on getting a drawing _just_ right. Or the way he reads a newspaper, with the comics section first, followed by sports, and then the rest. I adore him for his kindness, for his heart, for him. I adore Steve Rogers, the man.  
I step back, my heart hammering in my chest. This mistake, a kiss is one thing, but my confession is another. Each second lasts nearly an hour. But he is smiling, his Steve smile that I adore so much. One that reminds me of my own.  
“And I you, all of you. Every part,” He takes my hands in his and kisses them gently. A gust of wind blows onto the porch and we are dusted with snow. But Steve doesn’t even notice, his gaze still on me.  
I hear a scrape on the other side of the window, followed by cursing. We have observers. I lower my hands from his lips and begin to move us towards the front door.  
“Let’s go inside,” I open it just in time to see Yelena and Wanda scrambling away from the window and towards the kitchen. I glance up at Steve, who has an amused smile on his lips. I spy the rest of my family in the kitchen, gathered around the table with mugs of hot chocolate.  
Steve goes to the dining room and returns with a chair while I take my usual seat. Laura hands us both mugs of hot chocolate, rocking Nicole in her arms. The super soldier sits so close, I can almost feel the heat radiating off of him.  
“So, will you be staying in Nat’s room tonight?” Wanda asks, “I mean, Nat’s _old_ room,” She shoots a smile to Laura, as though this is some inside joke between them. Steve’s ears turn bright red.  
“I’ll take the guest room if it isn’t an imposition,”  
“Please, you’re always welcome here,” Laura promises. I look to Clint, who is glaring at the super soldier. I kick him under the table, and he looks over at me.  
“I agree with Steve that he should stay in the guest room,”  
“Clint,” I warn.  
“If Steve wants to stay in Auntie Nat’s room, why can’t he? I’ve had sleepovers in there,” Lila asks, glancing around the table.  
“Auntie Nat is an adult and can have sleepovers with whomever she’d like,” Laura says pointedly at Clint. The continue to talk and make innuendos, and I feel something bubbling up in my chest. Everything is going to change. My relationship with Steve, the team dynamics. Even now, the tension between Steve and Clint. I made a mistake. This was a bad idea. I should know better. I can see the bullet piercing his brain. That is what I do. I’m the Black Widow. It is was I was made for.  
“Tasha, was joke,” Yelena’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I look around and realize I had pushed away from the table, standing up, my back against the wall. My chair is tipped over on the ground.  
“I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head up to bed, and I think I’ll skip out on dinner tonight, Laura. I’m sorry. Whatever you have cooking in the Crockpot smells delicious.” My voice comes out flat and I hate myself for it.  
I race out of the kitchen and can hear them arguing behind me about who took it too far. My feet move silently up the stairs and hide in my bedroom, closing the door.  
Wanda comes up stairs after dinner and a movie, bearing tea. She says nothing of the night’s events, instead she sits beside me with her own mug, as we quietly exist in each other’s presence.  
It is around one o’clock, after I check on her one last time, that there is a gentle knock at my door. I pull it open, standing in my bathrobe as I was in the middle of getting ready for my shower, and Steve waits in the threshold. I nearly expect him to suggest we head to the diner to see Flora.  
“Hi soldier,” Rather than coming off raspy and flirty, it is stilted.  
“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have,” He begins, but makes no move to leave.  
“Come one in,” I pull the door open wider. He looks around, and I realize he had never been in my room here, the old one or this one. Steve stands awkwardly in his pajama pants and too-tight tank, unsure where he belongs.  
“I was about to take a shower,”  
“I’m sorry,”  
“You’re welcome to stay, or join,” I joke. He sits down on the foot of my bed, putting his hands in his lap.  
When I emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later, combing out my wet hair, he is reading through the titles on my bookshelf.  
“See anything you like?” He turns around sheepishly.  
“Sorry,”  
“If I didn’t want them seen, they’d be hidden.”  
“Can we talk about what is bothering you?” I glance up from placing my throw pillows on the floor. “You disappeared before dinner and you’re running your finger across your neck,” I drop my hand, irritated. A tell. I have a tell. If Yelena knew, she would never let it go. “It’s not a bad thing to be open,”  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I force myself to ask the question before I lose the will, “You can back out now and we don’t ever have to mention it again,”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“I’m not right, Steve. I’m this thing, I’m half a person. I’m not whole. You know that.”  
“Please don’t say that,” he asks quietly, “You are good, Nat. You are good, kind. Twice the person I’ll ever be,”  
“No,”  
“You’re the first person I want to tell when something happen, whether good or bad. There is no one else I’d rather have beside me in battle or after. I want exciting days and quiet evenings. I love you, Natasha, everything about you. I love watching you as you solve problems, or the way you command a room. I love it when you kick my ass in the ring and how fiercely you protect the people you care about. And I will spend the rest of my life convincing you that you are worthy of love if that is what it takes.”  
“That is an awfully long time, given our lifespan.” I can’t meet his eyes.  
“Worth every second.” He gently pulls me onto my bed. “From the moment I first saw you, I thought you were amazing. I knew I loved you that day on the ferry when you looks up to the sky and were sprayed with sunshine and sea water. I first fell in love with you on our mission in Italy. We were in a nearby town picking up supplies and you stopped to make kites for kids playing in the street. I realized I was in love with you when we were in that bunker and I thought I had lost you. When I held you in my arms and thought that our first kiss would be our last.”  
“Really?”  
“I’m always honest, especially with you.” We ended up under the covers as Steve spoke, and my head rests on his chest. He is like a furnace.  
“My ledger,”  
“Doesn’t exist, not to me.”

* * *

It had been two weeks since our kiss on the porch, and in fact, there had been little change in our dynamics. Steve comes to dinner now every Tuesday,and aside from that, everything has largely remained the same, much to my relief. I spar with him in the gym, with Yelena and Wanda watching. Sam and Maria join as well.  
“Are they having sex?” The question digs at me, as it is something we are yet to broach. But it is bound to come up. It should have by now, according to my research online.   
“I think this is their sex,” Maria answers her boyfriend, whispering.  
“We can hear you!” Steve calls out, dodging my fist. I ignore them, focusing solely on the task at hand. Steve's eyes are cold as he momentarily glares at our friends.  
“I don’t think they care,” I huff, sliding between his legs, ending up at his back. He spins around quickly, and I block a jab with my forearms. “I’ll race you to the top of the ropes,” I want to change the subject, and quickly.  
“Now?”  
“Yes,” I break away from our fight, sprinting to the two ropes that hang side by side. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him launching himself up beside me. We both reach for the bell, dinging it at the same moment.  
“Two of the most competitive people I know are now a couple. Congrats. I owe Wilson fifty grand,” Tony strolls into the gym, returning from his ten days on the West Coast with Pepper, as they prepped the nursery at the Malibu house.  
“Sam, you bet fifty grand on Nat and I getting together?”  
“No, I bet five hundred bucks on you getting together before Wanda goes off to college,”  
“I said Red was going to wait until September, but you guys just couldn’t wait, could you?” Tony sighs dramatically and turns to me, “Speaking of, you and Little Red are wanted by Brucey.” Tony walks over to one of the control panels that had been acting up. “Something about a test,” He shrugs, not looking over his shoulder as Led Zeppelin suddenly begins to blast over the speakers. Wanda hops down from the observation bridge, floating down beside me.  
“Everything okay?” Steve looks between the two of us.  
“Fine, just something Wanda was wondering about,” She shifts next to me, anxious to get going. When we step out into the hall, she begins to speak.  
“He has the results for,” Wanda plays with the rings on her fingers.  
“It doesn’t change anything, love.”  
“That’s not true.” She shakes her head. “One possibility is that I am here for like a minute of your life and the other is that I am here for the rest of it.”  
“Either way, you will be my favorite part.”  
“Mom, stop this kind of reassuring and comforting. I am freaking out,” She pleads. “I don’t want you to tell me everything is going to be okay. I want you to acknowledge that one of these options is terrible.”  
The one where you have to live a tortuously long life is the terrible choice, I want to tell her. Where everyone around you ages and you do not. Where children become older than you and time moves out without you. But selfishly, of course, I want her to be there for the centuries I have left. We reach Bruce’s lab, which has become something of a doctor’s office-workshop combo.  
“Hi guys,” Bruce looks up from his tablet, glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. He doesn’t meet my eyes, and I fear the worst. That she ages like a normal person. That she doesn’t.  
“Hey,” I paste on a smile for Wanda’s sake, keeping a hand on her shoulder and pressed to my side.  
“So, I’m sure you know why I asked you in. Wanda, since you’re eighteen, Natasha doesn’t have to,”  
“She stays.”  
“She stays,” Bruce nods, “Okay. Well, it looks like you’re going to have a very long life,” He pulls up a hologram. There is an audible sigh of relief from Wanda. “Your cells haven’t slowed down to the pace of Natasha or Steve, but that will happen in the next two or three years. Right now, you’re at about half speed.”  
“So, you’re saying,”  
“You and Natasha have the same lifespan.” Wanda spins around, slipping out of my embrace to face me.  
“Did you hear that?” She grins, “You’re stuck with me!” Her face lights up, and she begins to drag me out of the lab. “Thank you, Bruce,” Wanda calls over her shoulder. “We have to make a list,”  
“A list,” I clarify.  
“Of everything we want to do. We have all the time in the world. It is going to be amazing. We’ll spend a year or two in Europe, maybe. Or maybe we’ll even get to vacation on Mars.” She brings me into her bedroom, digging through drawers before giving up on finding a paper and pencil and opening up her closet door. Her index finger glows red and carves lightly into the metal, _Nat and Wanda’s List_. I sit down on her bed, bemused as she radiates joy. At the top of her list, she writes the two aforementioned. “Oh, I’d like to see Moscow,” she looks over at me cautiously.  
“Put it up there,” I cross my legs.  
“What about you?” I think for a moment.  
“I’d like to go to the Sellin Pier in Germany” She adds it to the list, along with many other items. The smallest things from getting a fish to climbing Everest.  
“There,” she settles down, letting her powers fade. At the very bottom, number thirty-two, is _More time with Mom_. “That should get us started,”  
“Honey,”  
“I know you think it is a curse,” She interrupts me, meeting my gaze. “But you will have me, Steve, and Yelena. I know it isn’t everyone, but it is a few people. You’re not alone anymore. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”  
“Okay,” I acquiesce, not wanting to be the one to dampen her spirit. She is elated right now, enthusiastic about life. It is what I have wanted for her for years.  
“I’ve thought about the bad parts too, but it won’t do much good to think about them, it won’t change anything.” She gives a pulse of red to propel herself off the floor.  
“When did you get so wise?” I get up, tucking her loose hair behind her ears.  
“I’d say it was around language seven,” She closes the closet door.  
After our weekend at the compound, we head back to the city as we move Yelena into the downstairs apartment, having closed on the place just over a week ago. Ms. Bisset finally sold the space, thrilled to be rid of us. It is much smaller the apartment Wanda and I share, though fifteen hundred square feet on Fifth Avenue is hardly tiny.  
Deliveries continue throughout the day as furniture arrives and Tony finishes installing Friday, which Yelena still distrusts slightly.  
“You shoot guns at four am, I file complaint with building manager,” Yelena warns as she puts plates into the kitchen cabinets.  
“Didn’t you know the only reason I bought this place was for so I could practice at all hours?” I tease.  
In the other room, I hear Wanda flop onto the large leather couch that had just been delivered from Pottery Barn- as Yelena was inspired after Wanda showed her a particular episode of _Friends_. She finishes putting away the dishes and opens up the freezer, sliding into two bottles of vodka.  
“You a built-in bar in the dining room,”  
“Already full,” Yelena shrugs. She steps back to admire her kitchen that she will never use, despite spending a hefty sum of my finances to have it renovated within a week.  
In the living room, Wanda has lounged across the chaise, flipping through the TV channels.  
“Mom, did you know Yelena has more channels than us?” She twists around to face me.  
“Wanda, you watch the same four channels or Netflix,” I raise my eyebrows. Wanda rolls her eyes good naturedly, and sure enough pulls up ABC to watch tonight’s sitcom. “So, you two will be good for a few hours?” I check, looking between them.  
“Go on your date, we can survive a few hours without blowing the place up.”  
“Probably,” Yelena adds, throwing herself down next to Wanda and ignoring the piles of unpacked boxes. I am not even quite sure how she acquired so many items in her short time here. “Go, your girl will be fine.”   
“Love you,” Wanda looks over to me. I kiss her forehead and smooth back her hair.  
“Love you too, Little Witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was fluff! Sorry for the bit of a filler chapter. I finally wrote the two of them together and my thought was literally 'well now what?' lol  
> There is still a lot that Steve and Nat will need to work out in their relationship, because there is of course a serious power imbalance between the two as Nat struggles with her position on the team. We are nearing the final plotline of Kindred and a lot of it is already written, so I hope to be able to post one chapter a week! I also recommend you check out Volition, there has been a lot of comfort and fluff in the recent chapters!  
> Hope you all had a wonderful Halloween! I'm already beginning to decorate for Christmas! Thank you for reading! :)


	40. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you had a fabulous weekend and are doing well!  
> We are about to get into the thick of it and the last story line for Kindred!  
> Thank you all for following along, and I truly appreciate each and every one of your comments!  
> Enjoy!!

Natasha breezes into the apartment, about an hour after I had left Yelena. It is nearly midnight; she has been gone for almost five hours. I look over from the TV as she enters the living room. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, and she carries a small takeout box in her hands.  
“How was the date? What did you do?” I click off the TV, turning to look at her. Natasha kicks off her heels, sitting next to me on the couch.  
“Wonderful,” She presents the box to me and I open it. Inside is a delicate pastry adorned with strawberry roses. “We stopped for coffee on our way back and I saw this and knew you would love it.”   
“Thank you,” I take a bite with the plastic fork and the buttery pastry and cream melts in my mouth. “Why didn’t you invite him in?”  
“Sam’s arriving early tomorrow,” I stop pushing for information, nor do I ask why she just didn’t go up to the compound with him. She is quiet, sitting beside me on the couch, thoughts clearly running through her head, likely picking apart the entire date.  
“I’m really happy for you, Mom.” She turns to me, with her small smile.  
“Thank you, Little Witch.” Her rise from the couch is graceful, like all of her movements. “We should get to bed. You do have an exam tomorrow.”  
“I think my teacher could push it back,” I close the takeout container and get up, stretching. Natasha gives my ponytail a light tug and takes the box, putting the remainder of the pastry in the fridge.  
In the morning, Natasha is humming quietly in the kitchen as she makes breakfast, her usual playlist echoing through Friday’s hidden speakers.  
“Good morning,” She doesn’t turn around from her task, her attention remaining on the frying pan.  
“I was so quiet,” I sigh, sitting down at the kitchen counter, “How did you hear me?” She laughs, and I use my powers to turn on the Keurig.  
“Getting lazy, are we?” she teases.  
“I’m practicing control,” I argue, waiting the cursory two minutes for the coffee to begin to drip out. A plate of pancakes, just barely overdone, are placed in front of me.   
Later on, that morning, I take my exam at the dining table, and Yelena comes over for lunch, discussing her plans for buying a car, or a motorcycle.  
The rest of the week continues in a similar fashion, of being extremely normal. I have PT with Chad on Wednesday, and Yelena meets him for the first time, flirting shamelessly with the therapist. This is followed by therapy with Sam on Thursday. I go over to Peter’s for dinner on Friday. And this goes on for another week, and another. Natasha goes on missions, none longer than a day or two, with Steve or Sam, sometimes Yelena. They are small, weapons bust or minor terrorist plot. After a mission with Clint, she is practically glowing, as it was their first mission as partners in almost a decade. She likened it to going home. Even though when she arrived in her actual home, she was covered in blood. It of course was not hers.  
When I arrive home from hanging out with Peter and his friends, Natasha is waiting impatiently by the front door. I look down at my phone and see no missed calls.  
“What is it?” I slide off my coat, “Is everything okay?”  
“You got mail today,” She is grinning, truly grinning, “From the schools you applied to, and the packages are big,” I follow her into the kitchen where she has a stack of unopened envelopes.  
“We don’t know if I got in,”  
“I can guarantee there is not a single rejection letter in the bunch,” She heads into the dining room, and returns a moment later with a bottle of champagne and two flutes.  
“Nat,” I roll my eyes.  
“I am proud of you, that’s all,” She places the items on the counter. I tear open the first letter, then the second, and keep going. Yale, Duke, NYU, UCLA, Harvard, and Princeton. Both of our phones ding just as she pops the champagne.  
“Always ruining your moments,” I joke.  
“They will pick us up at the tower in fifteen,”  
In a rare occurrence, Natasha lets me drive- though of course my car and not hers. She types quickly on her phone in the passenger seat. Her phone rings, and she gives Yelena instructions, who was already at the tower with Tony going over schematics for a new weapon. We arrive at the tower and I spy the quinjet touching down. When we arrive upstairs, a partial team is waiting. Steve and Sam are disembarking, while Yelena is heading towards them, garment bags in hand. I feel slightly giddy, as the last time I had gone on one of these missions was when Natasha had lost her voice. It had been her first mission back, and we danced at the party after our target had been apprehended.  
“Hurry up, love,” Natasha calls behind her. I hurry to catch up, shaking myself out of the happy memory.  
On the quinjet, we take turns in the bathroom to change into our new clothes. Natasha emerges in a floor length green silk gown, her red hair swept to the side, with large diamond earrings and a matching necklace. Steve whispers something in her ear, and she blushes, swatting him playfully before going to tie his bowtie. Yelena and I both have black dresses, and this is the first time I have seen the younger widow wear makeup, a swipe of red across her lips. We touch down outside of Copenhagen, where a car is waiting for us, keys in the ignition. During the short flight, Natasha had gone over the mission parameters with us until Yelena hacked into the quinjet’s speakers and started blasting music to make her stop.  
We arrive at the Statens Museum for Kunst just as night falls. Out front, there are paparazzi and limos. We arrive around back. Natasha had diverted security during the flight, changing their rounds so for the next ten minutes, this back entrance has no one observing. Yelena types quickly into the keypad, having programmed it remotely on the twenty-minute drive. The back door unlocks, and we step inside, walking through a long corridor.  
Yelena breaks off from the group first, heading down towards where the caterers are set up. We enter the main space for the event. There is a chamber orchestra of twelve string musicians off to the side. Waiters in tuxedos stand with canapes and caviar. Natasha breaks away from our group next, heading towards a staircase, while Steve moves towards the bar. Sam and I stay on the edge in observation. A mix of Danish and English flows around us, and I only understand one of the two languages. In fact, out of everyone on the mission, I believe Natasha is the only one who speaks the official language of Denmark.  
“May I interest you in a glass of champagne?” I jump at the sound of the voice, so close to me. I hadn’t heard the waitress approach.  
“Oh no thank you,” I turn and see Yelena, changed out of her gown and into an inexpensive tuxedo, matching all of the other waitstaff.  
“Take, blend in. Tasha must have told you,” She accent comes back as her voice drops into a whisper.  
“Yelena, I hope you are not trying to get my daughter drunk,” Nat’s voice echoes teasingly in our ears. I look up to the second floor and see her observing the crowd above with a glass in her hands. Her stance is languid, she actually looks bored, leaning casually against the balustrade.  
I take the glass and quickly lose sight of Natasha, and Yelena is gone before I can even say thank you. Sam and I break apart as he begins to do a sweep of the room. My role is to listen for Nat’s voice in my head, to hear her command when she won’t be able to speak.  
There is a flirtatious giggle in the coms and I know the game has truly begun. I spy Steve at the bar, his jaw tight, and follow his burning gaze towards the dance floor. Natasha is dancing with a man in a midnight-colored suit, his dark hair gathered into a small ponytail. While Steve radiate jealousy so strong that I can feel it on the other side of the room, Natasha dances gracefully and flirts with the man, her voice is low and raspy. She inquires about the wedding ring on the man’s finger and laughs at his response. Unless the com were broken, and the CLAM were to open up, it is designed to filter out all background noise. Hence why we did not hear Rumlow weeks ago.  
A gunshot rings out and the man Natasha is dancing with goes limp in her arms. She curses into the coms.  
“We’ve got competition,” She drops the body dismissively and reaches up her dress, pulling out her knives and widow’s bites. In her clutch, her favorite glock is removed. Chaos has erupted around us as people scramble for the doors. “Yelena, secure the perimeter. I don’t want anyone leaving this property with being searched. Tell security who you are.”  
“I’m on a sweep of the second floor with Sam,” Steve replies, having abandoned his post.  
“Wanda, can you try to find them?” Natasha asks. I don’t feel comfortable with this request, having to search through all these panicked minds to find the one who is calm. But Natasha has already broken away from the dance floor, all this is in her wake is a torn strip of green silk.  
Another gunshot goes off, follows by two more. There is a splintering of wood, and I look up to see Nat, who somehow ended up on the second floor, falling from mezzanine and tousling with a man. They crash into the bar below, glass and liquor spraying everywhere.  
“Always causing scene,” Yelena tsks, stepping to the main room once more. Her tuxedo is torn, and blood drips from a cut on her forehead. Despite the fall, Natasha appears uninjured and the man in her clutches is alive, but his elbow is bent in the wrong direction and screams as Natasha pulls him up from the wreckage. Steve and Sam comes down the stairs with a large duffel bag, likely containing the weapons.  
“I caught his friends, authorities take them. Your AI guarantee are real police.” Natasha winces as she drags the man forward, and I see red staining the side of her dress.  
“Were you shot?” I gasp, rushing forward.  
“Just nicked, I’m fine.” Her bare arms are covered in cuts from the glass, and I can only imagine how much they sting as they are coated in alcohol.  
“Nat,” Steve looks to her.  
“Seriously, I am fine. Has Maria arrived for interrogation? It will be a different bastard than she was expecting.” The man groans and Natasha rolls her eyes. Even bleeding and covered in wounds, she stands tall and completely unaffected.  
I frequently forget what her job was, or sometimes still is, when she is not Avenging. To me, she is always just my mom. Gentle and kind, infinitely patient. But she also kills easily and can walk away from gunshot wounds like they are papercuts and can change personalities at the drop of a hat like we saw tonight.  
Sam stays behind to join Maria while we head back to the quinjet. Steve looks nervously over at Nat, who begins to become cross with him.  
“Rogers, I swear to God,”  
“That just looks like more than a scratch,”  
“And you are going to get _more than a scratch_ if you don’t relax.”  
On the jet, Yelena pilots, which is nearly as terrifying as when Nat flies. True to her word, the bullet wound is a scrape by Nat standards, and she wraps it in gauze while Steve helps her pick glass from her arms.  
“You worry too much,” Natasha murmurs as Steve pulls out the last bloodied shard, dropping the tweezers on the tray. She pulls away from him, going over to her Starkpad and settling into her usual seat, beginning to type up a mission report. She explained on the drive back that she suspects we got in the crossfire of an arms deal gone wrong. I join Yelena in the copilots seat as Nat works, and when we land, I rise to see that Nat migrated towards the super soldier once more, her back up against his shoulder as she cleans her gun.  
“See you all for dinner tomorrow?” Steve asks as we near our vehicles.  
“Of course,” Natasha places a chaste kiss on his cheek before hurrying towards our car.   
“You know, if you want quick make-out session or sex, we wait in car,” Yelena teases Natasha for her modest display of affection.

“I’m fine.” She stiffens at Yelena’s joke, taking my car keys out of my hand.  
“And apparently, she is driving,” I shoot Yelena a glare, and she seems completely confused about the situation. She seems to turn to me for explanation, but I know Nat would absolutely kill me if I were to relay anything to her sister.  
Natasha drives aggressively through Manhattan, the streets quieter than usual as the sun threatens to poke over the horizon. However, when we get out of the car and walk towards the elevator, Natasha gently bumps Yelena’s shoulder.  
It is nearly noon when I wake, just a sliver of light shines through the crack in the blackout curtains. I head out of my room and find a note on the coffee maker.  
_Went to compound to spar, dinner is @ 6. XOXO Nat_  
I pour myself a mug and walk around the apartment. Though I consider texting Yelena to see if she would like to do lunch, I change my mind, instead opting to enjoy some rare alone time.  
After a run on the treadmill and catching up on my schoolwork, it is nearly three. I change into jeans and boots, grabbing my car keys to head up to the compound. The drive upstate is quiet, with little traffic as ski season begins to come to a close.  
I pull onto the compound to find quiet a few cars already here, including a cherry red Mercedes Roadster. Inside, Yelena is talking loudly about her new car. A very pregnant Pepper, now seven months along, is sitting on the couch with Natasha, who has a hand on her belly, her face lighting up when she feels a kick.  
“Hi love,” Natasha rises from her spot, coming over to greet me, “Did you have a good day?”  
“Yes, and my history assignment is on your desk,”  
I join Maria and Sam, who had just arrived back from Copenhagen this afternoon in a game of Mario Kart, along with Tony. I come in last place and hand off my controller to Yelena, who is eager to give the game a go.  
“Can someone run to the store and get dinner rolls?” Steve calls from the kitchen. No one else replies, to focused on the game.  
“I’ll go get some.” I rise from the couch.  
“Are you sure?” Natasha asks, pausing from chopping vegetables, “You don’t have to,”  
“I can go to the grocery store by myself, Mom. I’ll be fine.”  
“Do you need money?”  
“Nat,” I groan.  
“Okay, I’ve got it,” she laughs. “Love you,”  
“Love you too,” I head out to my car and drive to the nearest grocery store about twenty minutes away. The store is filled with shoppers who forgot last minute items for dinner, and I head to the bakery section, grabbing a bag of rolls. Last minute, I pick up a lemon meringue pie as well, recalling that Nat mentioned it was someone’s favorite. As I hand the grocer a twenty, I feel a chill run through my spine. Quickly, I head back towards my car. Starting tomorrow, the clocks will change again, and sunset will be pushed back an hour, but tonight, as it nears six o’clock, dusk has settled, and a wintery breeze sends the scent of snow. I blast the heat in my car, the force air blowing back my hair.  
It is all backroads back to the compound. The winding road is lined with trees that crisscross overhead, forming a canopy of sorts, while pine trees dot the mix, providing hiding spots for animals while the deciduous trees have shed their leaves. The road has become slick with ice, melted snow freezing once more with nightfall. My high beams provide the only light, the moon but a sliver, as I near the compound. I slam on my breaks.  
A deer dashes in front of the car, and I skid slightly, and come to a stop just feet from the animal, who remains frozen in fear. The doe’s eyes meet mine, and it seems to break whatever spell she was under and sprints off into the forest. I drive slower now, my caution building on the icy pavement. The deer had been a close call.  
Up ahead, there is a car with its hazards on. I spy a woman waving frantically, with what appears to be a baby carrier on her arm. The Jeep is off the road a bit, the front crashed into a pine.  
“Friday, tell Nat I am going to be a few minutes late,” I climb put on my blinker and pull off to the side.   
“Thank God, you are the first person to stop. I have no service and my car won’t start. I was just trying to pick up a cake,” The frazzled woman holds the carrier closer.  
“I can call a tow truck for you,” I offer, reaching into my back pocket. However, it isn’t there. It is currently charging in my car.  
“Can you look under the hood?”  
“I don’t know much about cars,” I think of the one or two times I worked with Steve on his bike or his Mustang.  
“Please, you probably know more than me,” She begs. I nod, heading over to the hood of the car. “You look familiar,” The woman begins. I smile at her and use my powers to pop the hood. She stands next to me as I use my hand to shine a light on the engine below. It is in my periphery that I catch sight of the baby carrier on her arm, empty. My heartbeat picks up and I continue to pretend to look around the engine while my powers reach out to search for anyone else nearby. There are six others in the woods. A wintry drizzle begins to rain down, and my sweater is quickly soaked through. I take a deep breath and close the hood of car, and then snap the woman’s neck just as I see her pull out a taser.  
Her body falls to the ground, limp. I turn to run towards my car when I feel the bite of a taser on my back. I fight to rip it off as electricity surges through my body. My powers dim in and out with the volts. Then I feel another connect with my side, forcing me to the ground. My teeth are locked together as my face presses against the dead undergrowth, rotting leaves and dirt caressing my cheek. I struggle to breath, like the autonomous movement now needs instructions. A needle is plunged into my neck just as the electricity begins to slow. My limbs feel heavy, my thoughts begin to slow. I don’t have the strength to even lift my head.  
I search for Natasha with my last bit of strength, for her thoughts to find mine. But she is so far away. I think I may have found her, in the cloudiness of my thoughts, but the last of my powers blink out.  
In front of my face is a single flower, peaking up from the forest floor. It droops, like the weight of its bulb is too heavy for the stem. A single water droplet drips off, splashing onto the ground below. I stare at the silky petals as my eyes begin to become heavy and staying awake becomes a battle. The last thing I see is a polished black shoe crushing the delicate flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!! As always comments and feedback are always appreciated!!
> 
> Also, if you are looking for more Steve and Nat content and Nat and Clint content, please check out Volition!


	41. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING**  
> Discussions of of sexual trauma and similar conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!  
> Hope you enjoy the chapter, unlike the last one, I actually made sure my brainstorming notes aren't in this one.  
> There is a part of this bit that I was really unsure about, I hope it comes across how I meant it  
> Lastly, please check out the series Tumblr! I post non canonical mini fics, and in honor of when I reach 50k total hits (which i am very close to!!) I will be posting a one shot on there in Yelena’s POV! I will post it in the comment section after though, posting it as a separate fic would ruin the flow of the series  
> Anywho... Hope you all had a great week and will have an amazing weekend!  
> Tumblr Link: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/natandwandaseries

The mid-morning sun shines onto my face, and for a moment, I let the warmth wash over me. The past few weeks had been blissful, it is truly the only way to describe it. For the first time since I was twenty-one, I had a mission with Yelena. It was quick, just a few hours in Portugal running an errand for Fury. She was jealous I got to make the kill shot, until I presented her with custard tarts, like how I used to finish off missions when we were children. A few days later, we celebrated her birthday. With Clint, our mission was overnight, and it was like we had never stopped being partners- like I never got burned and Loki never took over.   
I roll over in bed, stretching, and pull off the bandage on my side. The wound has completely scabbed over, proving Steve’s worrying had been for nothing. Despite being new, being with Steve felt as familiar as my missions with Clint and Yelena. So long as I didn’t think too hard, dwell on the possibilities, on what I am doing wrong.   
Not thinking about that today. I grab my phone, checking the time. It is just past nine, after getting home at nearly four. After running my hands up and down my arms, I can already tell that the smile cuts are also healed.   
The hardwood floor is cold when my feet hit the ground. After Wanda lost her leg, I got rid of all the area rugs as she tended to get caught on them. A year ago, this week. She is yet to bring it up, and I will not force her to talk about it.   
Finding her on the floor of that cattle cell, her blood flowing into a drain on the floor. We had called Dr. Cho immediately, but it was too late. Her leg had begun to decay, and it was a rush to save the upper half as infection had begun to set in.   
I wash my face, taking me out of the memory. In her room, Wanda is fast asleep, starfished in the center of her bed, surrounded by pillows. I got over to her window, pulling the blackout curtains shut. She can sleep in today, it’s so rare that she does.   
I scribble out a note and grab a cup of coffee to go. The drive to the compound is quick, few people quite ready to get going on a Sunday morning.   
The backroad is deserted, and the gates swing open for my car. There is a hint of spring in the air as I step out of the Porsche, a glimmer of life after months of cold and darkness. There is a faint clanging coming from the garage, and one of the doors is open.   
Inside, I find Steve bent over his car, smudged with grease. I lean in next to him, glancing down.   
“It looks like you could use a new engine.” He starts, nearly hitting his head on the open hood.   
“Nat,” He closes the hood, grinning, “I wasn’t expecting you until tonight,”  
“I thought I’d come up early, surprise you. If that’s okay,”  
“More than okay.” He goes in to hug me, but steps back. I try not to think too much about the action. Though I begin to wonder if it is from my actions last night. Yelena suggested Steve wanted more.   
“Have you gone for a run yet?”   
“No, ma’am. You are just in time. I’ll go change.”   
He emerges from the front door five minutes later, sporting workout gear. He jogs down the front steps, free of grime and dirt. I go to start our run when he grabs my arm, twirling me into his chest and gently kissing my lips.   
“Now that I’m not covered in grease,” He breaks off into a run, and I see a spark in his eyes. “Come on Romanoff, keep up,”   
Rather than our usual trail through the woods, we run the perimeter of the lake. The water laps against the shore, sparkling under the morning sun.   
We pass Tony’s cabin, though he and Pepper don’t seem to be home, and continue along the water.   
“I’m glad you came to visit,” We slow to a jog as we near the compound, finishing our second loop.   
“You know, you could just come to your place in Brooklyn more,”  
“Someone’s got to stay here.”   
“Vision is monitoring all the same computers on the West Coast,” I point out, slipping off my sneakers by the door. He does not provide a response.  
In the kitchen, I start the coffee, while Steve begins to prepare breakfast. I wait patiently for the first mug to begin to fill, and my mind begins to wander back to the same concern that has been nagging me for weeks. That look on his face when I exited the bedroom with Clint.   
“I’m sorry,”   
“What?” He stops scrambling the eggs.   
“I’m sorry for how I was, right after Rumlow,”  
“Nat,”  
“Let me finish,” I tap a manicured nail on the counter, “I am sorry that you had to see me like that, and for how I reacted to your praise. That wasn’t a good version of me on display.”  
He shuts off the burner, letting the half-finished eggs sit, “Are you done now?”   
“Yes.” I force my arms to hang loosely by my sides, while all I want to do is cross them. Open stance. Easy, first grade teachings.   
“Have you been thinking about this for weeks? Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”   
“I’ve been trying to figure it out, why you avoided me after. And I saw how you reacted when you saw the bruises. They were disgusting.” I was disgusting, repulsive.   
“Natasha, no.” He laces his fingers through mine, “First, those bruises. I was not upset with you, and I could never be _disgusted_ by you. All I could think about was going after Rumlow and making him pay for what he did to you. And I was avoiding you, because I thought you would be upset with me.”  
“Upset with you?”  
“Because I gave you a command,” I tilt my head, “Back on the docks, and I had promised,”  
“You did it so Wanda didn’t have to use her powers on me. I know you would never take advantage of me like that, Rogers.” I tack on his name at the end, hoping to lighten the weight of my statement. Trust. I trust him. _Would you trust me to do it?_ I had asked him, but he had never heard it from me. At the time, I hadn’t had a chance to determine whether or not I did trust him to save my life, it just fell into his hands. But I did, even if I never said.   
“If it was the other way around,” He looks me in the eyes, “I’d trust you too.” The air feels heavy. He knew what I meant, what I was referencing.   
“I believe this would be the point in time when Clint would say he didn’t know you were fluent in ‘Nat’.” The joke sounds wrong coming out of my mouth.   
Steve’s eyes glimmer, he reaches for me, going in for a hug, but instead swipes the cup of coffee that just finished brewing.  
“Hey, that is my mug,” I gape, outraged as he sips from the unicorn mug that Lila got me for my birthday.   
“Sorry, but I am making breakfast,” He points out. I don’t say that I know what he is doing, or that he can read me too well. Better than I thought he could. That he felt I wanted to stop this conversation. So, feeling out of character, I let it go.   
“Mhm, those congealed eggs look delicious.” I begin to brew the second cup and can feel his eyes on me. I take out a loaf of bread and grab the peanut butter from the cabinet. “I’d rather not die of salmonella today,”  
“Sure thing,” He laughs, dumping the uncooked mess.   
After our odd brunch of black coffee and PB&J’s, we head to the gym to spar. I feel my muscles loosening and a smile spreading across my face, Steve looking the same.   
For two hours, we fight, matching step to step, round for round. Until finally, we collapse onto the mat, drenched in sweat and panting heavily.   
“I love you,” Steve lies beside me, staring up at the rafters.   
“Even if I kicked your ass?”   
“It was a draw,”  
“Really?” I purr. Moving like lightning, I straddle his chest, placing my hands on his shoulders, “Then why do I have you pinned?” I lean forward, whispering into his ear. His lips meet mine, forceful but soft.  
We somehow make our way to his room, to his bed. His face is lit up, like he had been waiting for this to happen.   
“You want to do this?”  
“Hm?” I pull off my t-shirt.   
“I’m asking if you want to do this,” I pull back, confused.   
“Do you not want to?” Did I force myself on him? Like a mark? I hadn’t expected him to kiss me or for us to end up here. Did I lure him into this? Did I misread what he wanted?  
“No, I do. I just want to make sure you do,” Relief floods me.   
“Good,” I go to pull down his pants, and he shoves me off, almost harshly.   
“Natasha, stop. I need to know this is something you want.” He puts back on his shirt and tosses me mine.   
“I don’t know,”  
“That’s not a yes,”  
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”  
“It is a yes or no question.”   
“I can’t answer that. But I do know that you are interested.” I step forward once more, lifting my arms to rest lazily on his shoulders.   
“I’m not anymore.” He removes my hands, and they drop limply to my side, “I can’t do this unless you consent.”   
“I’m allowing you to,”  
“But you didn’t say you wanted to,”   
“I don’t understand,” My throat tightens, “What do you want from me?”   
“Do you want to have sex?”  
“I don’t understand,”   
“It is two-sided, Nat. Both of us have to want it.”   
“I’m sorry, I’ll say it. I didn’t know.” I try to lead him back towards the bed. I can fix this. I made a mistake, but I can fix it.   
“Do you mean it or are you saying it because you think that’s what I want to hear?”   
“I have never been in this situation before, please, just tell me what you want.” Begging. It is different than pleading. This is begging. For the second time in my life, I beg.   
“Wait, what?” He stares at me. Shit. I said something wrong again. It is like when I first joined SHIELD when I would say the wrong things. This look in his eyes. A mix of pity and horror. I recognize it. Clint, Maria, they all used to have it back at SHIELD.   
“I’m going to take a shower; everyone will be here soon,” I stumble out of the door, heading towards my suite. Every nerve feels awake. And I am suddenly acutely aware of a part of myself that was just in there.   
Yelena finds me later, as I sit on my bed. I’m still wrapped in my towel, and my hair drips onto the comforter, darkening the fabric.   
“Tasha? You okay? I talk for few minutes, you far away.”   
“I’m fine,” I rise from the mattress, suddenly freezing. “I should get dressed. Is everyone else?”  
“Just me. I got new car, I come early to show you.” I nod, heading over to my closet.   
“You upset.” I step out of the closet, fully dressed, and begin to tear a brush through my hair. Yelena comes over, picking my damp towel off the ground and hanging it up in my bathroom. When she returns, she takes the brush from my hands. “Stop, I do. You sit.” She works silently through the tangles that had formed during my sparring matches today, and during,   
“Lena, may I ask you something rather personal?”   
“You say my nickname but say question like it is formal.” Apprehension leaks into her tone. “Of course, ask,” she says after a beat.   
“Have you had sex,” I hear her snort, cutting me off, “outside of a mission?”   
“Da. Maybe ten, fifteen people? Depends on how you count,”   
“And you’re,” I lick my lips, “okay?”  
“Tasha, what happen? Is this why you not to do honeypots anymore?”  
“No, maybe? How do you know if it is something you want? How did you know it was something you _could_ want? How do you not hate yourself?” I rip away from her, pacing back and forth. The hairbrush falls to the ground.   
“Natasha, what you mean? Explain, please.”   
“Every time, all I can think about is what they made me into, and how I helped them. Yelena, I helped them groom those little girls,”   
“You were little girl,” She points out softly.   
“I needed to be more, and I wasn’t. Now, after, all I can think about is how I could have stopped them. How I need to make it right, and that I can stop it from happening to someone else.”   
“Red Room is gone,”  
“There are others. There are always others,” My heartbeat picks up. “And today, I thought that was what he wanted. I thought I was doing what he wanted,”  
“Did Steve force you to,”  
“No! No, the opposite. And I don’t understand. He asked me if I wanted to,”   
“Did you?”   
“I don’t understand,” She grabs onto my wrists, stopping my pacing.   
“Breathe.” She meets my eyes. “I’m sorry I tease you about sex. I did not know. But Tasha, you were child too. And you still help, like with,” She pauses, catching herself, something I’m not supposed to know. Something they took. “Not your fault anymore than mine.”   
“That’s not,”  
“No. Not your fault.”  
“What am I going to do about Steve?” I pivot back to the much more pressing topic, “How do I know if it is something I want? I can’t lie to him, I promised not to lie to him, even if it is something he wants.   
“You just know, you feel. Is okay that you not ready, Tasha. You go through a lot, more than me, and everyone different. You talk to Mr. America, he need to hear concerns from you.” “How do you not hate yourself?” The words come out barely above a whisper.  
“If you love me, there must be something worth saving.” Yelena’s lip quivers, but she straightens up, pushing her shoulders back. “I think others arriving, I need to show off car. Is bright red,” Instantly, usual happy-go-lucky Yelena is back. She struts towards the door but hesitates at the threshold. “Tasha, I know emotion not my thing, but if you need, I try. Let me know.” She sets her jaw and gives me a nod, heading out into the common area.   
In the common room, most of my friends have gathered, save for Clint who isn’t going to be here until six thirty, starting his week in the state of New York, officially on duty.   
I sit down on the couch next to Pepper and feel the gentle kicks of baby Morgan. Yelena is speaking to Tony about her new car, though I can feel some of her attention diverted towards me.   
Wanda arrives, her hair pulled back away from her face, and a large smile adorning her face.   
“Hi love,” I rise from the couch, eager to see her. I had been anxious about leaving her alone for the day, despite her practically being an adult, and clearly my concerns were unfounded. “Did you have a good day?”   
“Yes, and my history assignment is on your desk,” She replies cheekily. The little half smile that always appears when she teases lights up the room.   
She joins the team for group video game, and I head into the kitchen, where Steve is cooking, not spaghetti or tacos like usual, but an attempt at a pot roast.   
“Natasha, I’m sorry. I should have approached it better.”  
“I think it was a lot, for both of us.”   
“I didn’t think, I mean,” He rubs the back of his neck, “Nat, we can take this at whatever speed you want.”   
“But,”  
“Whatever you want, need. Whatever you’re comfortable with. And I know this needs to be a much longer conversation, but I’m just happy to be here with you.”   
“You can spend the night sometime,” I offer before I lose the courage, “At my place.” I begin to quickly chop up the carrots in front of me.   
“That sounds great,”   
“And we will talk tonight, after dinner. I won’t avoid it for weeks at a time,” I joke, but it is strained. The buzzer on the oven begins to blare. Steve pulls open the stove and takes out the cookie sheet, where two dozen dinner rolls are burnt.   
“Can someone run to the store and get dinner rolls?” Steve calls out. No one replies for a moment, until I hear Wanda’s quiet voice.   
“I’ll get some,” she pokes her head into the kitchen.   
“Are you sure?” I stop, “You don’t have to,” I could go, or maybe make Yelena go. She would probably love to drive around in her new car.   
“I can go to the grocery store by myself, Mom. I’ll be fine,” An eyeroll accompanies the statement.   
“Do you need money?”   
“Nat,” She throws her head back. Clearly spending too much time with my dramatic sister.   
“Okay, I’ve got it. I love you,”  
“Love you too,” I watches as she heads out the door, her head held high and her ponytail swinging behind her.   
“She has come so far. You know, on Tuesday when you went to get the takeout, we chatted.” Steve brags.   
“Okay, you goof,” I laugh, though inside, I am pleased, proud. She has come far; she is doing so well. Accepted to every school she has applied to. She has even been hanging out with her friends more.   
A greeting echoes from outside the kitchen. I head into the common area and spy Clint, with a suitcase rather than his usual duffle.   
“Laura kick you out?” Tony jokes.   
“Just had some more stuff to bring this time around,” He shoots me a smile.   
“Clint, you didn’t.” I take the bag from him, despite his protests, and unzip it. Inside, I find exactly what I expected.   
“I know its two weeks early, but it is so hard to coordinate our schedules,”  
“What is it?” Sam asks, looking to Maria who is already laughing, knowing exactly what it is.   
I pull out the banner and it unfurls. Though a little faded, and a small tear in the bottom left corner, it is in great shape.   
“Happy Defection Day?” Tony raises his eyebrows.   
“It is to celebrate the day Nat defected from Russia, leaving behind the KGB for SHIELD. Back when we lived in DC, we’d celebrate every year,”   
“With Laura’s yellow cake and chocolate frosting,” I add, fondly thinking of those early days. My family was much smaller then.   
“I think we should wait until next week, right before you leave,” Maria pulls out her phone, “I think Fury would be offended we didn’t invite him. It is his favorite holiday,”   
“So if Cap and Nat are Mom and Dad, does that make Fury Grandpa?”   
“I’d love for you to ask him yourself,” Clint claps Tony on the shoulder. I roll the banner back up, putting it in the suitcase.   
“You should also just let Laura pack for you, or even Nate.” I joke. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, a text from Wanda.   
“Everything okay?” Clint stops zipping up his bag.  
“Wanda said she is going to be a few minutes late,”  
“There was probably just a line at the store,” Pepper assures.   
“Just wait, in a few months you’ll be just as nervous all the time about your little girl,” the archer jokes. Yelena hands me a tumbler of vodka, while Tony begins to pour whiskey for everyone else. We sit down on the couches, Yelena sitting on the floor, kicking off her shoes.   
Then the common room disappears. A snowdrop is crushed under a leather dress shoe, and I feel intense fear, pain, desperation.   
Then it is gone.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are!! Of course I left the cliff hanger! Things are not going to be good for our girls, and I will warn ahead of time that there is going to be a mental health trigger warning for the next few chapters. Please take care of yourselves!! The warning will be removed from the chapter summary when no longer applicable.  
> I hope to post again before Thanksgiving, but I'm not sure that is going to happen, but I'll give it my best shot!  
> As always, comments and feedback at welcome and appreciated!!


	42. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning for mental health is going up now as an abundance of caution*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you had a great Thanksgiving!  
> This chapter is Nat POV, and the next one will be as well, but then we are back to our Little Witch. Sorry for any typos, I am too tired to go back and proofread, but wanted to get this chapter out.  
> As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!!

“Natasha, Nat,” I push the person away, stumbling and in a daze. My eyes can’t focus on anything. Bare feet land in freezing liquid, jolting me.  
Vodka. I’m in living room at the compound. Clint is trying to coach me back towards the couch. Everyone is staring at me. I feel sick. And cold.  
“Tash,” He tries again.  
“Something happened to her,” They are looking at me like I am crazy. Steve’s lips are drawn into a thin line, Tony is trying not to meet my eyes. “Something happened!”  
“Okay, what happened?” Clint offers. He is placating me. I storm over to my room and emerge in sneakers and a rainslicker.  
“Tasha,” Yelena calls.  
“Something happened to her, I don’t know what. I just know, I can feel it. She found me or something, I don’t know. Something happened.”  
“Okay, we’ll turn the tracker on in her car,” Tony offers, pulling out his phone. “No worries Red, if something happened, we’ll find her ASAP. Maybe she got a flat tire,”  
“No, I saw what she was seeing, it wasn’t that.”  
“I’ll come with you, okay? Whatever you saw, I believe you,” Clint tries to take the car keys from me.  
“We’ll follow,” Steve offers.   
Clint blasts the heat in my car and sleet patters against the windshield. He provides directions towards Wanda’s car, but offers no other words, letting me be. We are fifteen minutes from the compound when my former partner finally says that the car is up on the left. There is no way her powers could have reached me from here.  
I turn into the bus depot and slam on the gas when I see her car up ahead. I switch to park so quickly, that Clint’s head jolts forward, nearly hitting the dash. My raincoat flies around me, unzipped, as I sprint towards her car. Within seconds, my hair is slicked to my head, my clothes soaked through. There is no one in her car. It is empty.  
The rest of the team arrives and takes in the scene. Tony unlocks the car and Yelena climbs in, looking through the vehicle for any hint of what might have happened, where she might be.  
“I found something,” I jump into the car, nearly landing on Yelena. In a cupholder is a ticket receipt for a bus to Houston. “She go to Texas?”  
“No.”  
“Red, I know it may,”  
“No.” I exit the car, my teeth chattering. “No. She didn’t run away.”  
“She has before, twice.”  
“Why would she run away now?” I demand from him, only inches from his face.  
“I mean, there have been some changes,”  
“Don’t blame this on Natasha,” Clint has since climbed out of the car, his hackles raised.  
“She didn’t run away,” I insist, my nails digging into my palms.  
“Natasha, based on her history,” Sam begins.  
“No, you’re all wrong. Last time she ran away, the first thing she did was turn off the tracking and GPS in her car. Why wouldn’t she this time?”  
“I think we should head back to the compound,”  
“No, we need to call the police,”  
“I’ll have Vision follow this bus, we’ll find her.”  
“You’re not listening to me,” My voice is raw and angry.  
“Nat, we hear you. But discussing it here isn’t going to help us find Wanda,” Steve murmurs, going to place a hand on my shoulder. I brush him off.  
“He took her,” I insist. “He did,”  
“Who?” Yelena asks, closing the car door, another piece of paper in hand. A receipt from the grocery store. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Burner phone. “It looks like,”  
“Ross, I know it is him.”  
“He wouldn’t kidnap an Avenger. He’s not stupid, no matter how much he doesn’t like us,”  
They are all looking at me expressions that drip with pity and concern. Concern for me. They need to be worried about her.  
“She is in the Raft, I know it,” I stalk towards my Porsche. “I want Wanda’s car brought to the compound now. Meeting in the conference room. Stark, get Rhodes here in the next hour.”  
“Natasha,”  
“Clint, we’re going.” The archer hurries to keep up with me, jumping into the car. The steering wheel is slippery with a mixture of water and blood as my palms throb. “She didn’t run away,” I keep my eyes trained on the road.  
“I know you want to believe that, Tash, but look what we found in her car,”  
“Then what was that feeling and thing I saw in the compound? That made me drop my drink?”  
“Mother’s intuition?”  
“Something happened to her,” My voice cracks, and I feel like my chest is caving in.  
“Come on, breathe. Either way, we’re going to find her. You can find anyone in the world, you can find her.”  
“She doesn’t have that kind of time,” I know this in my heart.  
The gates swing open for my car and I wait in the conference room for everyone to arrive. Clint drapes a towel over my shoulders and another on the ground, my dripping and pacing making the tile floor slick. One by one, teammates trickle in. Maria and Pepper are running the computers, tracking social media for any mention of Wanda. Finally, Rhodey walks in.  
The War Machine suit contracts, folding up into a watch like Tony’s. He takes his seat quickly, not wasting any time.  
“I need access to the Raft.” I meet his eyes.  
“The Raft doesn’t exist, Nat.”  
“You and I both know that is a lie. Everyone in this room knows that is a lie. Get me access.”  
“Fine, as far as you, me, and everyone in this room is _concerned_ , it doesn’t exist. I will reach out to Ellis, see what I can do. But we are still looking at probably months of paperwork and lobbying until we are granted access,”  
“No.” I let the towel drop off my shoulders and lean over the conference table, “I want access sooner than that, and if not, I will break into the prison myself.”  
“You don’t know the coordinates,”  
“I hack?” Yelena offers.  
“They have never been put into a computer, only handwritten, according to the people in the know,” Tony fiddles with a small electronic.  
“I will find it myself if you won’t help me.”  
“Natasha, we want to help you. But you have to slow down,”  
“Barton, don’t you fucking dare,” I round on him. “He has her, and I am not going to rest until she is home again,”  
“She still could have run away,”  
“She didn’t. I’m leaving.” I emerge from my suite moments later in my catsuit, my best weapons secured. “Are you coming?” I look to Steve, and then Clint. Both try to stop me. Finally, I turn my attention towards Yelena.  
“Tasha, I think we let team help. Purpose of team, da?” I let my shoulders sag and bite my lip. A single tear rolls down my cheek. I change into pajamas and go over a game plan with the team on how to find Wanda, whether or not we should contact police. I drink my tea, and as it nears midnight, excuse myself to go to sleep.  
The wheels of the quinjet have lost contact with the tarmac before anyone even notices I am gone.  
It takes me fifty-seven days. Fifty-seven days too long. Finally, I locate the Raft. I had long since removed the battery of my cell phone, not wanting to be stopped. It is one day sooner than when Rhodey said he could make it happen, and that may make all the difference.  
Nearly three thousand nautical miles off the coast of Horta, Portugal and four thousand from Bermuda, perched on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, is the Raft.  
I park the quinjet is stealth mode over the coordinates, my eyes burn with exhaustion. I could count on one hand the number of hours I have slept. In Berlin, I had found partial plans of the Raft, another page in D.C., and the final in the UK. Enough to know which point of entry will not destroy the pressurized container. My heart pounds while I slip into the scuba gear, but I jump a mile when the quinjet starts to play Tchaikovsky over the speakers.  
With a heavy sigh, I open the hatch to the quinjet. Tony flies in with Rhodey, his faceplate flying up.  
“Hi, since Yelena did the hacking, she got to pick the music. I wanted to go with Led Zeppelin,”  
“What are you doing here? You can’t stop me,” I look between the two of them, “How did you even know where I was? Where the Raft was?”  
“Yelena happens to know your hacking signatures. We have been flying around for days trying to get close enough to connect the two quinjets since you turned off almost everything in yours,” Tony explains. Rhodes coughs, “But we were actually on our way here already, we got access. So, you will not be breaking international law today, Miss Romanoff.” I look out the hatch as the large dome begins to emerge from the water.  
I spy the other quinjet, Maria and Fury’s, hovering nearby. Tony offers his hand after I remove the oxygen tank from my back, and we fly down to wear a pair of guards and Ross are waiting.  
“I didn’t even want to allow this, but you seemed to call in every favor you had.” He glares at not Rhodey, but Steve. “Great, the woman of the hour has arrived,”   
The team turns around and Clint stops himself from running to give me a hug, but just barely.  
“Let’s get this show on the road,” He gestures to the two guards, who look distastefully at our team. It is good to know where we stand. I brush Steve’s shoulder as I walk by, while Yelena is right at my heals, so close in fact, that she gives me a flat.  
We are lead through the halls and shown empty cell after empty cell. The control room comes next, followed by storage facilities. The guards finish their tour, yawning, when Ross reappears.  
“As you can see, your _daughter_ is not here, Miss. Romanoff. Now, you can go.” There is a sigh of defeat from Sam, and Clint curses under his breath.  
“What about sublevel two?” I cross my arms. Ross’s pupils expand slightly before retracting, his eyebrows shooting up just a miniscule amount. No one else has noticed his reaction. I reach into my belt and the guards tense, expecting a weapon. Instead, I draw out the plans, holding them open for my team to see. The secretary lunges forward, trying to swipe them, but Yelena pins his arm behind him.  
“Do you two know about this?” Steve looks up from the plans.  
“As far as we knew, it was just storage.” The younger of the two speaks up. I look to the elder. He glances at Ross, and then back to me.  
“Come on.” We follow him into the elevator and his keycard grants access to the basement level, the air feels almost heavier here, but it is likely my imagination as we descend deeper into the ocean. “Ross and a few senior guards were the only ones allowed down here. I only got access yesterday when I was sent to grab some things from storage. I saw that there are about a dozen or so cells.”  
The stainless-steel doors slide open, revealing an industrial and sterile space. He slides in his key card, and the card is denied. And denied again. Tony steps forward before I can, blasting a hole into the titanium doors. In the hole, as he begins to pry them open, I spy cells similar to the ones upstairs. As soon as they are opened wide enough, I run into the room.  
It is empty. None of the cells have occupants. I fall to my knees. This isn’t possible. She has to be here. I killed and tortured so many men for the information that brought me here. This can’t be.  
“Nat, I’m sorry,”  
“She is here,” I look up at Steve, “I know it, please.”  
“Are there any more floors?” He looks to the guard, who shakes his head, his eyes trained on me. The deadliest person in the world, reduced to nothing.  
“We will keep looking for her,”  
“The receipts were planted. They got rid of the rolls,” Any evidence that she was doing anything other than running away. I stare into the cell across from me. An idea begins to take root. “Open all the cell doors.” I command, rising.  
“Tash, there is no one in them,”  
“No shit, Clint. Open them,” I turn to Tony, who is standing by the control panel. The door slide open. I crawl on the floor of each cell, searching the crevices. The drain in the floor. The seams on the cot.  
“Natasha, I think we need to look somewhere else,” Rhodes tries quietly. I ignore him, ignore their stares, and Clint’s comment about how I need to _work through this myself_. I get to the eighth cell.  
I am feeling along the edge where the floor meets the wall in the back corner, running my nail in the crack, when I feel it brush my fingertip. I pull out the strand of hair, long and dark auburn.  
Tony must have been watching from the cameras as he presents a test tube, and I put the strand of hair in. The only clue in the world that could help me find my daughter.  
“I won’t lose it, Red. I promise.”  
Everything begins to happen very quickly, as things begin to spiral out of control. Alarms begin to blare overhead, and I find Steve pulling me up off the ground. My head is filled with clouds and cotton, as even I had begun to doubt myself. Doubt that I had been right about those being Ross’s shoes.   
Ross. I find him still being held by Yelena, his arm looking broken. Guards have begun to surround him. The thick slow thoughts dissipate as I lunge forward, pinning him to the wall by his neck. He looks down at me, his eyes dancing with glee.  
“What are you going to do, Natalia? You can’t kill me, I’m the one who knows where your little doll is, so you can go back to playing house,”  
“Oh, I have no intention of killing you,” Surprise flashes across his face, “No. Once we find Wanda, I am going to torture you so slowly, so painfully, that you will be begging for death. It is only then, as you plead for me to kill you, that I will release you back into the wild to be dealt with. Death would be too kind for you, death would be merciful, and you do not deserve mercy.”  
Yelena and Steve pull me away as Rhodes issues an arrest. My body feels weak as my adrenaline begins to fade. A needle slides into my neck, and I am too tired to fight it.  
I wake up in my room at the compound. Clint is lying beside me, one of his mysteries about the anthropomorphic dog in hand. Everything swims back into focus, and I jump out of bed, tangling myself in the sheets.  
“Natasha, it’s okay,”   
“Where is he? Where is she?”  
“We are working on it,”  
“You’re sitting here, reading a book. You drugged me,” I touch the spot where the needle pinched.  
“I’m on Nat-duty, everyone else is on it.”  
“Without me? But I have to,”  
“You are not interrogating Ross. Under no circumstances.”  
“I should have been out there,”  
“It has been fifteen hours, and you were exhausted. If you didn’t get at least a little sleep, you would be no help to Wanda.” I glare at him, not wanting to admit that he may be right.  
“Who is interrogating him then?”  
“Yelena and Steve, Rhodes had a crack at him as well.” I leave my room, Clint racing behind me. “Natasha, you cannot interact with him. You’re compromised.”  
“Which is why it has to be me, no one else. I can’t,” Clint tugs me back roughly, and I feel myself tense up for a fight. Instead, he places both hands on my shoulders.  
“We’re your family, Natasha. She’s our family. Let us help. You’re not alone anymore,”  
“I can’t lose her,”   
“She’s still alive, we’re going to find her. All of us.”  
Clint brings me over to the observation room, one-way glass reveals Ross, and there is thick gauze wrapped around his hand, along with a black eye.  
“Yelena put a knife through his hand,” Tony looks back at us. There is none of his usual snark. He is typing rapidly onto a tablet, while we look at Steve, talking to him. His back muscles are bunched up.  
“Get him out of there,” I look over at Clint.  
“Nat,”  
“No, trust me, get him,” It is too late. Steve lunges, knocking over the table, and begins to punch Ross. Yelena pulls him back, getting hit in the process. She shoves Steve and pulls Ross off the ground, who begins to cough up blood.  
“Get both of them out of there.” I walk towards the door, “I know what he wants.”  
“You can’t negotiate with terrorists, Nat.” I raise my head and push back my shoulders. Yelena apologizes when she sees me, while Steve is still fuming. The biometric access panel pricks my finger before sliding open.  
“Black Widow at last,” He wheezes, smirking as he takes in my outfit. Bare feet. Sweatpants. Steve’s sweater.  
“I’m prepared to negotiate with you, reach an agreement.”  
“Really? Because right now, I have all the cards.”  
“I have something you want.” I reply coolly, “And in order for you to get it, you’re going to have to tell me who you gave my daughter to and where she is.”  
“What could that possibly be?”  
“I’ll tell the world what I am.” I watch his reaction, “You see, we could torture you until you gave up the information, and we would get it eventually. You crossed us in a bad way, Thaddeus. Even Captain America is willing to break the Geneva Convention to make sure we find out everything we need. But I would like this to go a little faster. So, care to share?”  
“I want Club Fed,”  
“How about Guantanamo instead of the Raft or living in this room for the rest of your life?” I gesture to the metal box we are currently sitting in. “You have thirty seconds.”  
“How do I know you will hold up your end of the deal?” He is having fun.  
“You’ll just have to believe the best liar the world has ever known to be telling the truth.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the quinjet takes off. Bruce had just arrived from Virginia, and joins Tony, Steve, Yelena, Clint, and I. We run analytics the entire flight as I pace back and forth across the cabin, swiping the hologram of the property where Ross said she is being held, breaking apart the blueprints and old land surveys. We touch down in North Dakota at it nears five o’clock.  
A rusting wrought iron fence surrounds the property. Clint carries a set of bolt cutters, but I don’t even bother. The chain locking the gate is just as corroded as the fence, and tears in my hands like paper.  
We make our way up the hill. At one point, we have to deviate off the long driveway, a rotting tree blocking our path.  
The building comes into view. It is an imposing brick monstrosity, looming over us. Windows are broken as vines creep in, nature reclaiming the land. Graffiti mars the front door. A broken wheelchair sits overturned by the front steps. Two stone lions guard said stairs, or what would have been two. One is missing its head.  
“We don’t know for sure if she’s here, Nat.” Clint places a hand on my shoulder. He somehow makes this both sound like a warning to me not to get my hopes up and wishful thinking that Wanda hasn’t been kept in a place like this for weeks. Steve stands stoically beside me, quiet with determination.  
“If she’s here, we’ll call you in to land the jet and for Tony and Bruce to go through whatever constitutes as a lab,” I command.  
“Heard,” Yelena’s voice echoes in my ear. I push open the heavy wooden door. There is a large crack running through it, giving a partial view of the interior. It is not better when we step inside.  
The floor tiles are crack, and paper peels off the walls. The front desk has been marred with spray-paint as well and the lobby furniture is in varying states of decay.  
“Okay, let’s split up. I’ll take the south wing. Clint, take north. Steve, you’ve got the basement.”  
I’m given nods and cautiously begin to head down the hall towards the south portion of the former asylum. Most of the rooms are long since raided and emptied. But I pass one whose door is left open just a hair, and I can hear the quiet buzz of machinery. I pull on the brass knob, cold in my sweating hand. I move slowly in the event that Wanda is in here, as not to scare her. My breath catches in my throat.  
It is one of his labs. Electroconvulsive therapy, or rather torture. I think back to Brazil, to finding her in that basement.  
“Yelena,” I finally find my words, “Room S14, it’s a lab.”  
“Got it.”  
“That means she must be here, right?” Tony voices. I say nothing, my stomach churning. As much as I would like to tear this room apart, I have to find her. Find Wanda.  
I reach a set of double doors, the sign above labeling the hall as the children’s ward. As I push through, the doors swing back and forth behind me, creaking loudly.  
The ground is littered with papers and dust. A discarded tricycle. Broken dolls. The walls are painted with crudely drawn safari animals, the paint peeling. Light hang haphazardly, holding on only by a few wires. Most of the rooms no longer have doors, reveals cots and cribs that have long since been vacated.  
I near the end of the hall. There is a door, the dirt around disturbed, revealing its recent use. With a deep breath, I open the door.  
“Hi love,”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!! I'm sorry! But I PROMISE next chapter, we see what is going on in a much fuller way! Also, it will be sooner than later as I have most of it mapped out in my head!  
> And we’ll see who was helping Ross! Who picked up my hints about this plotline? i have been dropping them for a while!  
> Hope you all enjoy your week and thank you for reading!! :)


	43. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***
> 
> This is a mental health trigger warning, if that is something that would bother you, I highly recommend skipping this chapter and the next. Please remember to take care of yourselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All!! 
> 
> A four day wait, not too bad!! I am sorry for the triple cliffhangers, but I'm even more sorry for what i have done to our girls. I was unsure whether or not to go through with this plotline, but I think i made the right choice? Idk  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!  
> As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!!

“Hi love,” I open the door and step inside. The room smells strongly of bodily fluids, and the ceiling is caving in by the back corner. Wanda is sitting on the bed, rocking, wearing a straitjacket and a collar. Every few seconds, she gives a sharp shake of her head, like she is trying to get rid of a thought. My heart skips a beat, my throat is tight.  
“Wanda?” I try again, a little louder. This seems to break her out of her thoughts. Instantly, her head snaps up, gaze fixed on me. Her eyes glow faintly, to the point where they appear almost purple.  
“Mom?” she asks, after a moment of hesitation. My shoulders sag in relief. She knows who I am, whatever they did to her, she is still Wanda, my Little Witch.  
“Hi sweet girl,” A huge smile blooms across her face, causing her dry chapped lips to split. Blood dots the delicate skin.  
“You came to visit,” She is breathless with excitement, her eyes wide. My stomach drops.  
“What do you mean?”  
“They said I couldn’t have visitors, but you came!” Her eyes turn blue for a moment, and confusion passes over her features before her eyes start to flicker with red, then turn purple once more. “I, um,” she starts mumbling to herself, shaking her head. I approach slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, it’s not there. I know it’s not there.” She looks over my shoulder. However, I turn and don’t see anyone. She struggles to move in the restraints. “Is he coming? He should be coming. It is around that time, right? I’m late, for a very important date,” She begins to lose focus on me.  
“Why don’t I take this off,” I move to unlock the straitjacket, while all I want to do it tear it to shreds.  
“No, no, no,” she cries, pushing backwards as much as she is able, “Then I’ll hurt you, I see red, I break things,”  
“Wanda, you could never hurt me,”  
“I killed, I, um,” she bites her cheeks, “That’s why I’m here. Better than prison. You had good lawyers, right? Yes. That’s it right.” My mouth is dry. “The things I hear aren’t real. Not real, that’s what they tell me. I know now. I’m doing better.” She smiles once more, “See? It’s helping, it’s working. That’s why you’re here! I’ve been good,” Her head bobs up and down. “Why are you crying? What did I do?” Her brow furrows. I quickly blink away the tears I hadn’t permitted to exist.  
“Nothing love, you have done nothing wrong,” I stroke her cheek and her eyes widen in surprise, like she is shocked I would be willing to touch her. “We’re going to go, okay? I’m taking you home,”  
“No. I can’t leave. They told me I can’t. Court order. I can’t leave,” Her breaths come in rapid, shallow gasps as she starts to hyperventilate.  
“Do you trust me?”  
“Of course,” She chews her lip, “but I’m not better,” Her eyes dark around the room, and her voice drops to a whisper. “For a second, the room was different, and you were wearing a catsuit,” I look down at my tight black uniform, and ignore the chatter of my teammates in my ears, wondering if I need help.  
“Wanda, can you tell me what you see right now?” Her brows knit together, but she nods, looking around.  
“We’re in a blue room with white tiled floors. You’re wearing jeans and your favorite sweater.”  
“Can I tell you what I see?” She frowns, but nods. “We’re in a green room, with a cracked ceiling that is falling in. There is a chipped clown mural on the wall. Your bedding,” My voice cracks, “is a torn blue sheet on a bare mattress. And I am wearing my Black Widow uniform.”  
“You see him?” Her voice is raspy, “The clown?”  
“Yes, Little Witch,” I look over at the chilling painting, “He’s wearing a polka dot costume with a blue collar and a red hat.” The Joker has a friendlier smile.  
“No!” She screeches suddenly, “You’re not here! You’re not here! This isn’t real,” She throws herself to the side as much as the straitjacket will allow, slamming her head against the plaster, harder and harder. I lunge forward, pulling her back from the wall and into my arms.  
She writhes and wails as I rub her back. Her hair is tangled and matted, greasy and grimy. I hold her close, her face in the crook of my neck.  
“Wanda, I’m real, I’m here. It’s okay.”  
“I was getting better, I promise.” Her cries taper off into hiccups and I pull back a little to look at her face. Blood is pouring down for her split open forehead.   
“Let’s clean you up and then we’ll go,”  
“But I’ll get in trouble, I’ll hurt someone,”  
“No, sweet girl. I’ve got you. It’s you and me,” Something seems to click in her with those words. She nods, and I tear more the shredded sheet, using it to try and clean up some of the blood. “Can I take this off?” I try again.  
“Please, no. Last time,” A full body shudder runs through her.  
“Okay,” I consent, “Do you know where your prosthetic is?” She shakes her head.  
“They took it away, he said I lost the privilege. I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”  
“We’ll get you a new one, I’m not mad. Not even a little.” She leans against me once more, and I can feel her heart beating a mile a minute. “I’m going to carry you, okay?”  
I rise slowly from the bed, with her held tightly in my arms. She is lighter than she should be.  
“I missed you,”  
“Oh love, not nearly as much as I missed you,” I step out of the room.  
“Mom?”  
“Mhm?” I bite back tears.  
“Where we are going, will there still be shocks?” She tightens in my arms before I can answer, “I’m sorry, I know. They’re good for me. I’m sorry. They make me better, I’m,”  
“No more shocks. We’ll have the collars removed as soon as we get out here. She rests her head on my shoulder, her hair falling to the side and exposing a healing burn on her temple.  
“Nat, thank God,” Clint and Steve are waiting in the front lobby. Wanda raises her head and trembles in my arms, “What the hell? Take her out of that thing,”  
“You promised, no,”  
“We are not taking it off right now, don’t worry,” I shoot Clint a glare. Like I would willingly leave her in this thing.  
“I don’t see them, I don’t see them,” Wanda mutters to herself under her breath. Clint can’t hear her, but Steve can, his face becomes taut and drawn. “They aren’t real,”  
“Bruce and Tony went to that room you found, Yelena discovered his office.”  
“Let’s go to the quinjet, I want Tony or Yelena to get this collar off,”  
“Off?” She looks up at me, hopeful. Dried specks of blood cover her cheeks and is caked in her eyebrows, coming back to us at least a little.  
“Nat, her eyes,” Steve begins.  
“I know,” I keep my voice soft. “Yes love, we’re going to take of the collar.” As we make our way down the steps a whine starts to build in Wanda’s throat. I don’t have a chance to ask her what is wrong, as she throws up all over my suit. She bucks out of my arms, landing on the grass, tears streaming down her face.  
“I’m sorry, please. I didn’t mean it.” Without her leg, and her arms bound, she can hardly move. I can’t imagine how long she has been kept like this.  
“Honey, it’s okay,” she looks around wildly, and I see her eyes are holding steady, bright blue. “Wanda,”  
“Where am I? What’s,” Her frown deepens, “The mushroom, of course!” She shouts suddenly, her posture straightening as she looks at me. As though she just figured out when is going on.  
“It’s okay,”  
“N-Nat,” She stutters over my name, her confidence of a moment ago withering instantly.  
“I’m taking you home,” I remind her, using my sleeve to wipe off her mouth.  
“My head hurts,” she whimpers.  
“Can I pick you up and bring you on the jet?” She looks over at the quinjet. The rest of the group has gathered, though keep their distance.  
“My head, it’s full of holes. Colander, it drips,” She pleads with me. “Well, I can't remember things like I used to, and...” She continues with the odd phrases that seem vaguely familiar.  
“It’s okay, Little Witch, we’ll patch up the holes,” Her face lights up once more, realizing that I more or less understood her. She knows something is wrong. I take this as a sign that I can pick her up once more. Now that her eyes are blue, I can see her pupils are blown. She is high. My sweet girl.  
We board the quinjet and I take her straight to the medbay, thankful that we borrowed Fury’s larger jet. Bruce has already set up shop, waiting for us.  
“Is there someone else here?” She looks to me, “I can’t tell, sometimes yes, sometime no. But he isn’t real, right? He told me so. But he tried to tell me you weren’t real. You’re real.” She continues to talk, trying to convince herself one way or the other.  
“It’s Bruce, remember?”  
“Names are falling, falling fast. Down the rabbit hole, right?”  
“Right,” I smooth back her hair. It is greasy and matted. “Tony is going to take off the collar, okay? Do you remember Tony?”  
“Salt?” She frowns, thinking hard. Bruce sucks in his breath.  
“Hey Little Red,” Tony does his best to school his features.  
“He will be mad at me, off with her head,” _Alice in Wonderland_ , that is where most of what she is saying if from. She looks at Tony, “Careful, she’s stark _raving_ mad,”  
“He is gone, he’ll never hurt you again.” She stares at me for a moment, before lifting her head, allowing Tony to work, clearly a bit frustrated with the two of us. Yelena is out front, presumably going through whatever papers she found in Beck’s office, while Clint and Steve pilot.  
“There might be a little shock,” he warns.  
“It makes me better,” Tony’s face pales. I continue to stroke her hair as he works, and there is a small shock, a tiny jolt travels through her body, and her eyes flash as soon as the electricity dies, her powers trying to protect her.  
“Wanda, stay with me. We are on the quinjet, remember? Can you talk to me?”  
“Quinjet, that’s not real. No. I’m on it.” She gives a shake of her head, “Too many thoughts, they don’t stay in,” She pinches her lips, “Keep your temper,”  
The collar pops off. Her neck is covered in burns at various stages of healing, while her skin has been rubbed raw by the metal contraption. Some of the wounds are infected, dripping down her neck.  
“Wanda, when you feel ready, we’d like to take of the jacket. Bruce needs to take your blood.”  
“I don’t want to hurt you. I do bad things. I can’t hurt you.”  
“You won’t, I promise.” I can’t, however, promise she won’t hurt Bruce. I look over at him.  
“I’m good, under control.”  
“Okay, we’re going to take it off now. What if you and I talk while he works?” She bites her lips, her eyes filling with tears. “What if we got takeout from our Italian restaurant when we get home? We can order chicken parm, maybe I can even let you have a glass of champagne,” The distraction isn’t working as she watches Bruce’s hands undo the buckles. Tony has since left, giving us some privacy.  
Despite her arms being unlatched, she keeps them in the same position, I notice now that her hands are bound to her sides as well. Bruce works quickly, undoing all of the straps. However, he leaves it to me to remove it, not that I blame him. I pull off the jacket and see she is wearing the same t-shirt from the last time I saw her. Her arms.  
Her arms are emaciated and covered in track marks. The fingers on her left hand have been broken and healed incorrectly, bent at an angle.  
“Can you tell me what happened?” I hold her hand in my palm gently, her skin is tight from dehydration.  
“I saw red and he didn’t like that, I injured him.” She stares at her hand.  
“Did he hurt you a lot?”  
“Only when I when I was bad, I learned not to be though.” The insinuation of her words make me sick. Her eyes move behind me, and I turn, seeing Bruce preparing a banana bag.  
“It’s okay, he isn’t going to give you anything bad, it’s just vitamins.” She nods but doesn’t stretch out her arms for Bruce. I take her right arm, unfolding it. And I thank God that Bruce gets the IV in on the first try. She begins to fall asleep, leaning up against me, but forces herself to stay awake. “You can rest, it’s okay,”  
“If I fall asleep,” Her voice trembles, “If I fall asleep,”  
“I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.” She stares up at me with hooded eyes, flickering between blue and red. It makes me feel better than whatever the purple meant, the flickering I know how to deal with. “Sleep, sweet girl.”  
Clint comes back, handing me a change of clothes. I had forgotten that my suit is soiled, my attention solely on Wanda.  
“I’m going to change right here,” I whisper, not taking eyes of my sleeping daughter. Carefully, I take her off my lap and lie her down across the cot. The sweatshirt is one of Steve’s, and I fold up the sleeves.  
“How is she?” Clint looks at his niece, broken and wounded. “That’s a dumb question, I’m sorry.”  
“I don’t know. She is on some drugs right now; we won’t know until she comes down.” I retake my spot beside her on the bed, her face is screwed up and in pain. But until we get a tox screen, we can’t give her a sedative of any kind.  
We touch down at the compound, and Wanda’s face has relaxed once more as I hold her close. As though she finally feels safe. For the first time in two months. My heart hurts. I failed her, failed her so miserably, so deeply. I promised to protect her, and I didn’t.  
A team of doctors waits as we depart, offering a gurney. I hold her closer to my chest. Dr. Cho, Fine, and Sam catch my eye in the crowd.  
“Natasha, we aren’t going to let anything happen to her.” I go to put her down, and she clings to my sweatshirt in her sleep. Tony and Bruce have already rushed off to test the sample of blood he took.   
I carry her into the medical wing and to a room. This time when I go to set her down, she lets go, waking up. The doctors and nurses stop talking as her eyes land on them.  
“We’re in a hospital?” Her voices rises. She looks around the room, her eyes landing on a blank wall with more fascination than it should permit.  
“Yes, they’re going to help you, love.” She places all her trust in me, leaning back into the pillows.  
“Wanda, do you know what he gave you?” Dr. Cho steps forward.  
“Go ask Alice,” She mutters, looking down at her hands.  
“I’m sorry, we don’t understand,”  
“Well, I can't put it any more clearly, sir, for it isn't clear to me,” She tries again, looking to me, begging me to understand.  
“Okay, I’m trying to understand you, love.” Louis Carol, _Alice in Wonderland_. The trippiest Disney movie. I freeze. “Did he give you hallucinogens?” Wanda’s face lights up in recognition, as if the word had been removed from her brain until now.  
She had been trying to tell me what was wrong since I first found her, and I hadn’t listened. The tablet Dr. Cho is holding chimes, causing Wanda to jump. She starts to mutter to herself again, her words incoherent.  
“Okay, we are going to give Wanda a sedative and bring her,”  
“No, please. I don’t want to go again. I don’t want to go there,”  
“Wanda, this is Dr. Cho, remember?” She shakes her head, curling into herself. “And Dr. Fine is my doctor. They are both the best at what they do. They’re going to make you better,”  
Those were the wrong words. Her eyes turn bright red and a painting crashes off the wall. I pull her into my arms before she can hurt anyone, and her powers wrap around me like a blanket. I go to squeeze her hands, but stop, remembering the broken fingers. Her powers die down, and I see the room has emptied, save for the two of us. The doctors and nurses fled, though I hardly blame them.  
“They are going to heal the wounds on your neck and fix your hand.”  
“Last time,” Her lip quivers, and she doesn’t continue.  
“Whatever happened last time, it won’t this time. I promise.” She lies back down on the bed, folding her arms into her. I press the call button and the team returns, more cautious than before.  
“I'm afraid I can't explain myself sir, because I'm not myself, you know,” She blinks up at me.  
“You’re still you, Wanda.” I kiss her forehead. They insert an IV into her arm and her eyelids become heavy, “You’re still my Little Witch.”  
I feel a rush of guilt as I speak the words, and I can't figure out why until she drifts off. I think I may have just told her a lie. 

* * *

  
She goes into surgery, and I head into the waiting area. The team has gathered, all in various places. I’m shocked to see the rest of the Barton family, and even Thor, gathered.  
“We have a few hours, they are going to do as much as they can while she is under,” I look between them all. “I am going to change, then there are some people I need to talk to.” I don't give anyone the chance to crowd me, to comfort me. To tell me everything is going to be okay. I don't want false assurances. I want results, action. I need something to be done.   
There is a knock at my bedroom door, and I step out in fresh clothes. Yelena is waiting, serious and out of character.  
“You should not do this now,” She hurries to keep up with me as I head down the hall.  
“We only have twenty-four hours before we turn them over to police. And it is better than me waiting in that room,” I snap.  
“Tasha,”  
“You betrayed me,” I round on her. Yelena’s eyes widen. “I asked you to come with me, and you said no.”  
“No, I say we work with team. Why you have team, family.”  
“They weren’t willing to do what had to be done. I figured you would be. For me.”  
“You not give me chance to come.”  
“I asked once, that should have been enough.” We reach the wing where the two men are being held.  
“I love you, and I love your girl.” She is quiet as we wait for the door to unlock, “You want me to go?”  
“No.” The door slides open and I walk inside. Ross is sitting at the table, looking worse for wear. He has been given medical treatment for the wounds inflicted by my sister, but Steve’s punches remain un-iced.  
“Ms. Romanoff, I trust you found your daughter. Alive, I hope.” I sit down across from him, checking my nails. “Alive, right?” He tries again.  
“If she weren’t alive, you would be hanging from the ceiling light by your intestines.” My voice is cold, calm. Ross licks his lip, a bead of sweat drips from his hairline.  
“And a deal is a deal, Natalia. You signed a contract,” He nods to the envelope beside us. I pick it up and tear it in half, and then again. “We had a deal.” His jaw tightens.  
“You took the word of the most notorious liar in the world. Your hubris is your downfall. Did you really believe that I would not go back on my word?”  
“You sent emails to news outlets and reporters. I saw them.”  
“Yes. They are regarding your act of treason, along with the kidnap and torture of teenager, misappropriation of government assets, funds. I could go on. You levied war against the United States government, violated a government contract signed just months ago. You will be lucky if you ever see the sun again. I look forward to your public trial, where you will be dragged through the mud like the pig you are.” I rise from my seat. “Thank you, for your cooperation.” The door clicks shut behind me, Yelena is gone, replaced by Steve.  
“I shouldn’t have yelled at her,”  
“No, you should yell at all of us. We didn’t trust you,” He joins me on the short walk to the other interrogation room. In the hall, Tony is slumped against the wall, looking painfully sober. Right. This is one of his former employees. I remind myself this isn’t his fault. It’s Ross. Tony is not an enemy here.  
“Natasha,” he jumps up when he sees us. Calling me by my name.  
“Thank you for helping Wanda on the jet,” I head towards the door, and hesitate, “It wasn’t your fault Tony.” Because it was mine. It is my job to protect her, and I failed. Ross and I, we share the blame. Steve brushes against my shoulder, a silent question. I nod, and the door slides open. Much like Ross’s room, two armed guards wait in the corner.  
He smiles at me. Quintin Beck. He is still wearing a lab coat and nametag, a false proclamation of his status as doctor. I pull up his file on smart table, swiping. Steve sits beside me, tense, ready to go to battle if necessary.  
“Why?” I ask, surprised by how fragile I sound.  
“I have no grudge against you, Black Widow. Hurting you was just collateral damage.”  
“What did you do to her?”  
“Do you know why I got fired from Stark Industries?” His smile is gone. “It was because Tony Stark twisted and changed my idea. It was my idea. And it could have gone so much further, and he decided to call it BARF,” The man rages, slamming his fists on the table. Neither Steve nor I react.  
“What does this have to do with Wanda?” Steve speaks up.  
“You see, I have been doing research to see if there is a way to improve the tech, and I was so close until you came sweeping in. What if I could control what people were seeing on a biochemical level?”  
“You’re not a doctor,”  
“No, but I figured it out quick.” He was conducting medical experiments on her. “What if we could change reality for someone just a little? Imagine. And she was the perfect candidate, to see how her powers interacted with drugs and electricity. Ross told me about the shocks,” He is excited to be sharing his work. His is proud of his research. Proud of what he did.  
“I’ve heard enough.” I push back the chair. I don’t want to hear about how he got her, how he came into contact with Ross. “Please have Maria complete the interrogations,”   
I break into a sprint, ending up on the roof. I drop to my knees, the rough roof scraping them through my thin pants. And I scream. I scream into the concrete, until my throat is raw, and air will no longer fill my lungs. If it a battle cry or one of defeat, I don’t know.  
“Nat,” I look up and see Steve.  
“Don’t ask if I’m okay,” My fingers wrap around the edge of the roof.  
“I won’t.” He sits down next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.  
“She’s gone. She’s not, Steve, we got her back, but I don’t know if we did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!!  
> This is of course not a realistic portrayal of anything, as this story is purely fictional and this is the effects of Wanda's powers interacting with exposure to drugs and **improperly** administered ECT. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I am going to try to have another chapter out mid next week!
> 
> *Also, Wanda could remember all those quotes because weird things happen to your brain when high. Wanda is extremely confused and lost, unsure what is going on around her or who people are. We will learn a lot more about her thought process next chapter in her POV!


	44. Wanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Strong trigger warning for mental health***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay, I've been insanely busy with finals, Christmas shopping, getting a dog, work... The list goes on. But to quote Ben Franklin, "Never ruin an apology with an excuse" So... anywho, this chapter is insanely long, almost 7,000 words, so I hope that makes up for it a little! I probably won't post again until after Christmas, so I'm wishing you all a happy and safe holidays!

A gentle hand caresses my head. The movements are soft and repetitive, soothing. I blink open my eyes to see Natasha, she gives me her small smile, the one that the rest of the world can’t see. I didn’t imagine it, her, coming to get me.   
“Hi love,” She murmurs, her hand stilling. It occurs to me now, that I shouldn’t be leaning into like I am. I don’t deserve to be touched gently, to be given this kind of care. I pull back, regretting it the instant pain flashes across her face.   
“N-no, I don’t, it’s,” the words fumble out of my mouth as I try to string together a coherent thought.   
“It’s okay, just relax. You’re safe,” The room smells like a hospital, and the décor matches. On one side of the bed, the plastic guardrail is up, while Natasha had lowered it on her side, the chair she is sitting in pressed up against the bed.   
“Is it time to go back?” She must have just had me removed for medical treatment. I look down at my hand, the fingers re-broken and straightened, bound to a splint. “No time to say ‘hello, goodbye’,” The room has started to change. One looks like a hospital, the other like _the_ hospital. I don’t know which is real. Maybe I never left? I was doing better, there were less flashes, I was becoming sure.   
“Wanda, you’re not going back, can you stay focused on me? The doctors want to come in and talk to you,”   
“I’m late,” He won’t be happy if I miss a session. I lost count of the days since the last time in the shock room, I usually do. But it must be time. I can’t miss it. They are talking around me, the doctors. My mouth is dry.   
“Love, are you listening?” There is a squeeze on my uninjured hand.   
“It would be so nice if something made sense for a change,” I parrot. I don’t understand what they are talking about. No. He didn’t do that. I know he didn’t. That isn’t a right thought. That is why I need the shocks. These sayings float in and out of my head. They are important. I know that. They are something important. Like my subconscious is trying to tell me something, but we are speaking different languages. The doctor’s words barely hold, like water around rocks in a riverbed. I went with Nat once to a cottage on a river, I think. I was not good then, nothing made sense.   
The people in front of me, they don’t know what they are talking about. But, then again, neither do I. Or where we are. Or who they are. That’s not true.  
I know these people. I shouldn’t. He said he would get rid of them. I don’t know their names, or who they are I think, but I know them. Maybe. They aren’t real though. But Nat is talking to them. Unless they are real. Or Nat isn’t here. I’m not here.  
“You may have noticed I’m not all there myself,” I speak up, cutting off one of the doctors. Don’t they know I am dangerous? Not deserving of sympathy. I hurt so many people.   
“It’s okay, we’re going to help you,” Natasha promises. Something wasn’t right with Dr. Beck, I think. But that’s wrong. He’s a doctor. Helps people. He was even willing to help me. But the world didn’t feel right after his visits. But that was me getting better, feeling the real world.   
“She needs to be home,” She looks to the man who helped me on the plane, he isn’t green.  
“Natasha, I don’t think,”   
“If you don’t think, you shouldn’t talk,” I murmur, looking up from my hands and over to Nat, “People aren’t green,” I focus on her. Ignore everything else. Focus my thoughts. They feel loose. A saltshaker upside down, everything pouring out, only little grains staying in.  
“He isn’t green right now, see? No Hulk,” The name sounds both foreign and familiar. “Bruce,”  
“I’m sorry, Ms. Romanoff, I have to agree with Dr. Banner,” The woman speaks up.   
“Why aren’t they wearing white?” The doctors. Maybe a sign this isn’t real. Rationalize. Find things that are out of place. She looks over to the doctor in the back, or he isn’t a doctor, a part of me knows that. But the others, if they are doctors, they should be wearing white.   
“Lab coats upset you, we thought it would be,”  
“It is not about what I like,” I fiddle with the splint on my hand. A lab coat is the reason my fingers were broken. “If she saw white instead, she'd raise her voice and each of us would quickly lose his head.”   
“Wanda, what do you mean?” I look over to the door, waiting for him to come. Bind my hands once more, before I paint the roses red.   
“We think Wanda should spend the night in the medical wing, and if she does well, she can go down to her room. We’ll see how it goes from there,” The third doctor speaks.   
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room,” I snap and then instantly regret it- preparing myself for a shock to run through my body. I screw my eyes shut, clenching my jaw so I won’t bite my tongue. But nothing comes.   
“I’m sorry, Wanda. That wasn’t right of me,” The doctor speaks, and I open my eyes. “I think it would be best for you to stay here for observation,”   
Natasha looks like she is about to argue, but a glance at me stops her. Instead, she nods to the doctors and they each give me a painfully sympathetic smile before heading out of the room. Except for the one in the back. The non-doctor. He waits off to the side. And I am beginning to feel like a mouse being hunted by a bird of prey. Like a hawk or a falcon. Falcon.   
“He isn’t real!” I turn to Natasha, “You don’t see him, right?”  
“It’s Sam, Wanda. He is your therapist, remember?”  
“No, he isn’t real. Real therapists wouldn’t tell you that the delusions are real, that I can hear people’s thoughts! Move things with my hands,” I feel my temper beginning to pick up.   
“Wanda, can you talk me through why else you think I’m not real?”  
“Because you have wings, people don’t have wings,”  
“They are part of a suit, like a parachute, or a jetpack.” I shake my head. This thought needs to go away. They won’t go away. Being here, it is making me worse. I’m remembering what I should have forgotten.   
“I need to go back,” I twist, searching for a leg, a wheelchair, anything. “I have to go back,”  
“Wanda, do you want to tell me what is going through your head right now?”  
“You need to talk to him, he knows,” My stomach clenches, and Nat is faster than me, helping me sit-up and holding a bedpan to my chin as I throw up water and stomach acid. When she helps me lie back down, beads of sweat have begun to trickle down from my hairline.   
“I’m sick, that’s why you came and got me,” I try to run over the events in my head again. She was there, and there were other people. Or there weren’t. I saw them, but that doesn’t mean anything. And the quinjet. No. Plane. It was a plane.   
“Sam, we can do this later, right?”  
“Of course, Wanda, if you want to talk, you can text me, okay?” He offers. I don’t know what I am supposed to text him with, when Natasha places a phone in my hand. The door clicks shut. I drop the phone as I go to unlock it, my hand shaking. She quickly supports my hand with hers, and the phone unlocks to my face.   
“Do you want to look at some pictures to help jog your memory? Or we could watch TV?” My eyes feel heavy as my heart pounds.   
“I think I need to sleep,”   
“Of course,” She takes the phone, placing it on the bedside table. “I love you,”   
“I love you too,”

* * *

The door creaks open. I sit up slowly; my arms are weak and practically useless. I look and see Natasha gone, then cast my eyes towards the door. A teenage boy and a little girl hover in the doorway. _Bear_ , I think, inspecting her, the word is out of place.   
“Wanda!” he smiles brightly, “We were so worried, I swear Nat was about to burn down the world if that’s what it took to find you,”  
“She knew where I was,” I tilt my head, looking at the boy. “That’s why she came and picked me up.”  
The little girl with him seems unable to hold herself back any longer as she races into the room. She launches herself onto the bed, her hands moving a mile a minute.   
I scramble back as quickly as I can, my back pressed up against the wall. The teenager rushes in.   
“Wanda?”   
“You shouldn’t be here,” I recognize them. I’m not supposed to. Friendly neighborhood- No. No. “You can’t be here,” They are supposed to be gone. Not in my head. They are in my head, they don’t belong here.   
“I know, but we had to see you, we were worried,”   
“You can’t be here,” I repeat again. “You’re not here! You’re not real,” I press my hands to my temples, waiting for it to come, “N-not real, not real,” Everything is shaking. Vibrating. The room begins to transform. Becoming smaller, darker. The vibrating, it is electricity, a hum I can feel in my bones. I close my eyes.   
Arms wrap tight around me, and the buzzing stops. I breathe in the scent of rosewater and chamomile.   
“Peter, take Lila out of here now. You were told to stay out, and I expect you to obey that order in the future.” The door clicks. “You’re safe, can you come back to me? I’m here, I’m sorry I left. Can you talk to me, sweet girl?”   
“Everyone here, isn’t here.” I get the courage to look around the room, fearful of what I have done. Instead, the only thing I see out of place is a cup on the ground, surrounded by scattered ice chips.   
“Remember, if you’re ever not sure, you can ask me,” She releases me from her embrace, sitting in front of me, crisscrossing her legs.   
“I can’t,” I admit, ducking my head. “I don’t know if you’re here,”   
“Take a picture of me,” She offers, handing the phone over, “If I’m in the photo, you’ll know I’m here.”  
“But what if I just imagine that too? I need to go back, I can’t. I never left, or I did. Either way, I need to be there. Maybe this is a test? Right? To see if I’ll behave.”   
She rests a hand on my knee. “I’m sorry I left,”  
“No, don’t be,” I turn to look out the window, there is a lake. “Dr. Beck once left me alone for two days, I was really good.”   
“You’re always good,” She replies, getting up off the bed to sweep the ice back into the cup, then dumping it in the sink. “Do you want to watch TV? Or chat? We can maybe play a boardgame,” When I don’t answer, she clicks on the TV.  
An assortment of sitcoms play on TV Land, all older than I am. Nat braids my hair in increasingly intricate ways, only stopping to help when I begin to become ill.  
I’m unable to keep down any of the food the nurses brings, and the doctors continue to check on me periodically, keeping an IV in my arm. The kindness. There is too much kindness. I close my eyes as The room begins to change, Natasha says something about a fever.   
“Where is he?” I ask. She had just turned out the lights, joining me in the bed. “Why did he let you come get me?”  
“He’s here,” She admits. I sit up and feel the room spin. “He is being moved now, to a prison until his hearing.”  
“But he was helping me,”  
“No, he wasn’t.” She kisses my temple, her lips gentle touching the burn. I can feel her heartbeat holding steady as I am wrapped in her arms. Safe. That is the only thing I know for sure right now. With Natasha, I’m safe.  
  
In the morning, as speckled sunlight sprinkles the bed, I find Nat already up. She has a fresh set of pajamas in hand and a wheelchair ready.   
“Are you ready to bust out of here?” Her fake cheer is almost believable. As though I cannot feel her massive disappointment in me.  
“We are going to my room?” I clarify, “I have a room here, because this is a hospital?” I try halfheartedly, exhausted. The night was spent in an awful way. I was sweating and shivering, too weak to sit up on my own to throw up the juice I had finally managed to drink.   
“I have a room here too, remember?” She folds down the blanket, “And Tony will have new leg for you by tonight,” Red and gold pop into my mind with the mention of Tony. Another person in my head that is supposed to be gone.   
As she picks me up, I see a face over her shoulder. My one-handed grip on her t-shirt tightens, the fabric twisting in my hands. I feel my breaths quicken.   
“Not real, not real, not real,” Nat turns to look over her shoulder.   
“Yelena,” She scolds the individual, placing me in the chair.   
“You’re sister?” My brow furrows, “She’s dead, right? How is she here? You see her, that isn’t,”   
“She’s alive, and shouldn’t be in here,”  
“I wanted to see if there is anything I can do to help,”  
“I don’t understand. Mom, how is she alive? You saw her die, right? A car accident or um, skiing? There was snow I think you said,” I saw it once. Like a home movie in my sleep. No, they don’t do home movies of someone dying. I shouldn’t be able to see that, I shouldn’t see her falling back in the snow.   
“I see if you needed help,” Her eyes are on me as she talks to Nat, “Your girl,”  
“Everyone knows me, I know them, I’m not supposed to. This isn’t good. This isn’t good,” I begin to see red on my hands. “She is supposed to be gone, not eating candy in our apartment, I didn’t see her there. I didn’t see her there,” There is the sound of something shattering and falling off the walls. “I lose my temper, you lose your head, understand?”  
“Wanda, she’s alive and she’s real,” The warm, soft hands hold mine. She shouldn’t be. When I see red, back things happen. Painting the roses.   
“I want to go back,” Yesterday, everything made sense. Before Natasha found me, no, came to get me. She knew where I was. “You may have noticed that I’m not all there myself,”   
“Is she quoting,”   
“Goodbye, Yelena. I will check in with you later,”  
“There is something wrong with my head, I don’t understand, Nat,”   
“It’s okay,”   
“Everything is sharper today, but not,”   
“Wanda, he had you on a lot of drugs, and you are starting to come down,”  
“Medicine,” Natasha frowns by says nothing else on the matter.   
We head down the hall, encountering no one on the way. There is no chatter of people, or for some reason, I expect to hear the sounds of laughter and fighting, though two rarely go hand in hand.   
The large living space we enter is also empty. And it looks horribly familiar. I have been here, but not. I’m living in a nightmare. She pushes open the first door in a long hall.   
“We won’t be here long, I’m pushing for us to go home,” She is quite for a moment, “Do you remember our home? Do you know it?”  
“Of course,” I fiddle with my splint, “Our apartment, with the library and the stars on my ceiling.”   
Nat exudes an audible sigh of relief. Whatever is wrong with me, I don’t know more than I should. Or shouldn’t. I should know more than I do. To the point where she would think that I forget our home.   
She helps me onto a couch that looks to be a recent addition. Everything else has the impression of being long sense settled. _The Compound_. I don’t want the name in my head. But it’s here, and now it seems as though it is not leaving. There is more and more of that, the longer I’m not in back at the hospital, or the longer I am in my head, here.   
“Wanda, can Sam come in here and talk with you?”  
“You want him to,”  
“Whatever you want to do, I’m not going to force you to do anything,” She spreads a blanket across my lap. I give a small nod, and she pulls out her phone.   
There is a knock on the door only seconds later before it opens. Sam walks in, giving us both a smile.   
“Hey Wanda, how are you feeling?” I lick my lips and extend my neck. Both of them stare at me.   
“What are you doing?” Natasha asks tentatively.   
“Waiting for the collar,” I curl back slightly.   
“I’m not going to put a collar on you,” Sam states firmly.   
“But what if I answer wrong? How will you punish me?” These are new rules, I just finished learning the old ones. I don’t know what to expect, when the punishment will come, what it will be.   
“There are no wrong answers here, we’re just having a conversation. Do you mind if I sit?” He nods to the armchair. “And if you want Natasha to leave,”   
“No, please. Stay, I don’t, please,”  
“I’m not going anywhere,” Nat presses her shoulder up against mine.   
“I don’t, he’s real?” I look between the two of them.   
“Yes,”   
“There are two of you in my head,” I whisper to Nat, “There are two lives.”  
“Can you tell me about that, Wanda?” the therapist, Sam, asks.   
“There are two worlds, one that makes sense and one that is imaginary. Down the rabbit hole, through the looking glass,” Falling, falling, falling fast. Everything turning and swirling, two lives in my head. And the fake used to seem so much realer. The room in front of me changes slightly, starting to become bland and generic. White walls and floors, before blinking back once more.   
“Honey, can you try and stay with us? We can take a break if you need to,” I shake my head. Get this over with.  
“Two lives?’  
“You know one,”   
“Why don’t you tell me about the other,” Sam asks. This is new. Beck never wants to hear about the other life, the fake one. But the fake world, or maybe other world, wants to hear about this one. “How did you come to America, Wanda?”  
“My parents were killed in a bombing from Stark industries and I was part of a refugee program that brought kids from war torn countries over to America.” I remember sitting on the crowded plane with Pietro, holding hands. The flight attendant gave us extra cookies.  
“And then?” he prompts.  
“I was placed in a home with Pietro. There was another boy, he only went by Ultron. He never told us his real name. But he was American. I don’t know why he was there, older too.” Both of them have tensed up at the mention of Ultron, “And we lived in this man’s house. He was mean, tortured us.” I bite my cheek, “Didn’t feed us. He used to drug me, and we couldn’t go to school. Then,” I take a deep breath, “Ultron killed Strucker, then Pietro.” I had felt him die; it was like losing a part of myself. My other half dying. “So, I killed Ultron before he could kill me. It was self-defense, and I was a kid. And that is when you took me in,” I turn to Natasha, she saved me.   
Sam asks more questions, like about the yellow house. A hallucination in both worlds. The first doctor, his assistant. Then Natasha had complications with a throat infection that spread into her lungs, unable to speak for months.   
“Can you tell me how you lost your leg?”  
“Wilson!” Natasha snaps, rising halfway off the couch. I gently pull her back down.   
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ve talked through this with Dr. Beck,” I mutter the story under my breath, trying to piece everything together. Natasha finding me on the floor, searing pain, blood running into the drain of the shower. I still don’t know how I did it, he told me, but I can’t see myself doing the action. But it happened, clearly. “I chopped it off,”   
A choked sound escapes Natasha. I look over, alarmed, as the noise morphs into a cough. She refuses to meet my eyes.  
“Are you okay? Is it your lungs?”   
“Yes, just swallowed the wrong way,” Finally, when she does glance up, I see nothing by anguish.  
“I’m okay now, you saved me,”   
“Wanda, you did not cut off your own leg. How could he even make you think that? I,” She gets up from the couch, beginning to pace, “He could have said car accident, or even a shark attach for fuck’s sake. He had to make you think you would do this to yourself,”   
“Natasha, maybe you should go find Cap and head to the gym,  
“What do you mean make me think?” I feel my toes curl. “How could he? No, no,” I pull my leg up to my chest, “Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t.” I repeat the phrase again. This isn’t right. Nothing is right. I hit the burns on my temple, the metal splint being particularly hard, hoping to make all of this go away. For everything to stop. Because that is what this is, I am in the room. In the chair, as he does the shocks. This will all be over soon. The gun going off hitting my leg, the explosions. No. That wasn’t real. That didn’t happen. They need to stop. The thought keep coming, and tumbling, and falling, and going.   
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry sweet girl, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Natasha has pulled my hands down. And Sam is up from his seat. The pillow next to me on the couch has exploded, or rather torn open, feathers float through the air.  
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” I mouth tastes metallic; my cheeks are raw.   
“No problem, Wanda. We can go at whatever speed you are comfortable with. This is just a conversation,”   
“I want to go home,” I miss the library, the stars, and the rooftop.   
“I’ll see what I can do,” Nat promises. There is obvious guilt of her face. I hear Sam talk, but his lips don’t move. Not this. This can’t start again. He didn’t _say_ anything about Nat just now.   
“I’m hearing the voices again, there are no words, but they’re in my head,” She glares at Sam for some reason, as though this is his fault.   
“Wanda, we’re going to go talk to the doctors, see if we can go home, okay? I’m going to get you home,” She helps me from the couch to the bed, mostly carrying me, then stands by door with Sam, looking conflicted on whether or not she should leave. If it means going home, she should do whatever needs to be done.   
“I’m okay,” My voice is meeker than I thought it would be. Though the sweats and shakes have stopped, my head still pounds, and everything hurts.   
I swipe through my phone, looking at pictures. There is me with the little girl from yesterday, both of us wearing glittery makeup. And a picture of me sitting at a chessboard with a rather large man, and I know that was the _Cap_ that Sam referred to.   
There is a creaking overhead, and I look up curious, to see the vent cover coming loose. It drops down onto the armchair, and I force myself to keep calm, to not see red, as I wait for whatever is up there to drop down.   
A boy lowers himself, stumbling ungracefully in his shoddy landing. He straightens up, proud of himself.   
“My dad used to get around Stark Tower like that, never understood the appeal until now,” He looks over to me. “Wanda?”   
“I’m not supposed to have visitors,” This is all too much. People I’m not supposed to know what fantastic powers, a child dropping from the ceiling. Stark Tower?   
“I was worried about you, and bored. Mom, Lila, and Nate are in the city for a hearing appointment.” The boy walks up to me.   
“You play baseball and like building things,” On the off chance this is real, I don’t want to upset the kid like I did the others.  
“Obviously,” He looks around, “I like your room at our house better,” His eyes land on the torn pillow, and looks over at me in understanding. “You okay?”   
“I’m sorry, I, um,” The words come slow. Dr. Beck said this is temporary after the treatments. The longer time between them, the better I felt. “I’m not good with names right now. The holes are smaller today, but everything still drips.” The boy’s face falls and he takes a small step back.  
“What do you mean? You don’t know who I am?”   
“No! I do, you like baseball and building things,” I struggle to get up, Nat had left the wheelchair next to the bed, but I’m weaker than I thought I would be.   
“What happened to you?”   
“I am getting better,” I murmur, “Getting better than before. But if that were true, you wouldn’t be here. Right?” My broken fingers ache, whatever painkiller I have had is definitely wearing off. “Cooper!” The name hits me suddenly, “A type of hawk,”   
“Yeah, that’s my name,” He looks sad now, completely unlike the proud kid who dropped in.   
“You have a polar bear,” I think hard, people don’t have polar bears as pets, but nothing else makes sense here either. “And a nest on the treetop,” I lean back, trying to organize my thoughts. The door to my room swings open and a man walks in, taking in the scene.   
“Cooper, you are supposed to be letting Wanda rest,”   
“You didn’t tell me she was this sick,” he accuses the man. My chest tightens. There _is_ something wrong with me, and with every passing second that becomes increasingly obvious. “What happened to her?”   
“Hey kid, I’m sorry, I’ll get him out of here,” The man gives me a kind smile.   
“You gave Natasha her necklace,”   
“Yeah, I did,” He ushers Cooper towards the door, “It is good to hear you sounding more like yourself, Wand.”   
“Bedroom in the attic,” I mutter after the door closes, the pieces of my thoughts falling into place.  
I go through my phone and the photos again, there are pictures of me with Cooper, and the little girl, and two other, younger, children. There is also a one-eyed golden retriever puppy in some. I lock the phone, feeling a new kind of nausea than what I had experienced in the last twenty-four hours.   
The door opens once more and this is beginning to feel ridiculous, In and out, in and out. Nat comes in, holding a new prosthetic.   
“We’re going home,” She looks over at the grate, “Are you okay? The kids, they have been worried about you, I’m sorry they won’t leave you alone,”  
“I know who they are.” I watch as Nat rolls on my sock, followed by the leg. “Do you think I’m dying?”   
“What?” Natasha freezes from adjusting my leg. “Are you not feeling well? Your fever broke early this morning,”  
“I’m just trying to understand what is happening,” She helps me stand up, and as she lets go, my real leg buckles. Instantly, I am caught, being lowered into the wheelchair.   
“You will get your strength back, it’s just going to take some time,” A blanket is pulled off the end of the bed, draped over my legs, “And you’re not dying, I wouldn’t allow it. You have so much life left to live.”  
“You tell off death and he listens.”   
There is only a single person in the common area when we leave the room, Cap. He gets up from the couch when he sees us, putting down his newspaper. He is too young to read newspapers, but he is old. It doesn’t make sense, that he is both young and old. But neither does people turning green, men with wings, or children dropping from the ceiling.   
“You got the clear to leave?”  
“Wanda doesn’t always do the best at the compound, we’ll come back tomorrow for Bruce and the team to check in,”   
“If you need anything, I’ll drive down, just let me know.”   
“The shield,” I can see the disk soaring through the air, yes. “You’re the sword, he’s the shield,” Offence and defense. A pair. More I’m not supposed to know, that isn’t real. It was just the two of us. “Everything is coming back, I need the treatments, you are letting them come back.”   
“We’ll go home, and you’ll feel,” she pauses, “Right as rain,” Outside, a car is running, waiting. My car.   
“Sorry, we can fit the wheelchair in mine, and the SUV is at home.”   
“You kept it?”  
“Wanda, how long do you think you were gone?”   
“They said I was never leaving. Murderer, monster. Mutant.” The transfer from my chair to the car seat becomes a hug.  
“I will always come and find you, no matter where you are. I will never give up on you, understand?” I nod, holding back tears. “Good.” She goes around, putting down the driver’s seat to put the chair in the small backrow. The drive is quiet, as no music plays. I keep my eyes on her the entire ride, trying to memorize every feature. If this is a hallucination, the last one maybe, I don’t want to ever forget her face. When I am pulled from this reality and back to my other, I don’t want to forget anything about her.   
“I have food being delivered from our favorite place,” She smiles as we pull up to the building, “It should be here in an hour. Can I get you anything until then?” The door man, Albert, is quick to give us a large berth as he gets the door. But he looks at us with kindness.   
The elevator doors slide shut after we make it through the lobby.   
“Does he know what I have done?”  
“He knows you, Wanda. Remember, Albert gave you flowers on your birthday?”   
“I know, it’s just,” I can’t put it into words, I don’t even quite understand it myself. In fact, the more the day goes on, the less everything makes sense.   
The apartment is stale when we enter, as though no one has been here for months. Nat pulls open the windows, letting in the spring air. It is May already, if I have kept track of the days properly, or maybe late April.  
We sit on the couch watching a movie with our Italian takeout. Natasha pretends not to notice my hand shaking as I try to lift the fork to my mouth, the spaghetti sliding off each time.   
“Can I help you?”   
“No!” They start to look red as they shake and there is a crack suddenly running down the wall where my hand jerked seconds ago. I must have thrown something. “I’m sorry,”   
“It’s okay, you’re okay. What if I make you a sandwich instead” With the fancy peanut butter?” She heads into the kitchen, and pokes her head out, “The bread is no longer edible, is two frozen waffles okay? I’ll defrost them first,”   
I scarf down the sandwich, eating well past the point of being full. It is impossible to know when there will be food again. It is also the first time in days that the idea of food doesn’t make my mouth fill with saliva. There was no set schedule at the hospital, and more often than not, it was used as a reward for when I was good. And it wasn’t until recently that I started being good.   
About fifteen minutes after I finish the waffle sandwich, cut into fourths, I lose it all over the scrabble board. Tears mix with stomach acid as Natasha wipes down my face with a warm washcloth. We somehow made it from the living room to my bathroom.   
“Oh, love,”   
“I’m sorry,” I hiccup, “I’m trying, I promise, I’m trying,”   
“You have done nothing wrong,” I meet her eyes.   
“How can you love me?”  
“How can I not?” She half carries me to my bed, as though trying to give me some semblance of control of my body, then goes to take off my leg.   
“No, please,”   
“You’ll be uncomfortable,”   
“I don’t want to lose it again, please,”  
“Just for tonight,” She lies down next to me, and I burrow under the covers. The gentle humming of _Let it Be_ and the steady rubbing of my back lull me to sleep.

_“What is wrong with her?”_  
 _“We have her conked out on sedatives, she probably thinks we’re on Mars.”_  
 _“So, I can just use her for my experiments?”_  
 _“Yes, she’s proven to be good for them before. Just keep her alive, we may need the leverage. If I could, she’d be dead already. But we’re playing the long game, understand?”_  
 _“No one will find her here,” Someone grabs my chin, I spit in his face. A shock runs through my body, and the moment it ends, I feel my powers awake, chocked by this jacket. Just as restrained as I am._  
 _“Maybe you can get rid of that,” Ross sneers. Dr. Beck pulls me off the ground, shoving me forward._  
 _“Come on, we’ve got work to do.”_  
 _He begins to remove the straitjacket and wonder if maybe he is working with the Avengers, perhaps that was just a show for Ross. Natasha will be here, inside, with Steve and Clint. Tony, Yelena. They will finally get Ross and I’ll go home._  
 _“Now, I am Dr. Beck, I’m going to make you better.” No, foe, not friend. “I’m going to take off the restraints, and if you do anything, you’ll feel it, understood?”_  
 _I grit my teeth. I can feel sedatives and painkillers flowing through my veins, dulling my reaction time. The Doctor stands behind him, neck bent, flickering in and out._  
 _“The secretary was right, you are the perfect candidate,” He smiles. “Now, let’s see what we are working with here,”_  
 _As soon as the jacket is removed, I try for the door. Electricity travels through every inch of my body as I drop to the ground. I see stars, and when I come through, he is pulling off my leg._  
 _“You have lost the privilege, understand? You will learn to be good. I am trying to help you, to make you better. To live in a world without that freakshow.”_  
 _“They aren’t,” There is a smaller shock, a warning._  
 _“You will only speak when prompted,”_  
 _The first injection is in my neck. Then Dr. Beck begins to talk to me. What he says, it doesn’t match what I see. He describes the rec room as bright and sunny, with plush couches and ping pong. I see springs sticking out of the furniture, mold growing in the corners._  
 _Then, he comes into my room one day. The clown mural on the wall stares back at me, the one he says isn’t there. I’m starting to doubt myself, which doesn’t make sense. I know what I am seeing._  
 _Beck is wearing a white lab coat. Whatever stupor I have been in is wiped out in an instant, my powers breaking from the holds of the straitjacket. I lunge towards the door, forgetting about my missing leg, and scream in pain as it is slammed shut, the delicate bones in my fingers crunching in the heavy oak door. I pull my hand to my chest as everything flickers around me. I don’t know if I am in a white sun-drenched room or the decaying space. Looking over at Dr. Beck, in the flickering, he is standing by the door, a chair next to him, splintered. There is a gash on his forehead, and the ceiling has begun to cave in._  
 _Furious, he picks me up, throwing me onto the bed. I struggle against him as he straddles me, prying open my mouth, and then shoves something down my throat._  
 _“I’m going to make you better,”_

I wake up, drenched in sweat. I’m in my room, this isn’t my room. There are no white walls, tile floor. This bed is much too big. I can’t be here. I’m not supposed to be here. What he did to me, what did he do to me? I stumble backwards out of the bed, weak as I fall against the window. Have to get out. I have to get out. I can’t hurt her, I need to get back.   
The visual of Ross dropping me off, and Dr. Beck shoving something down my throat flickers in and out of my peripheral vision. No. It can’t. I pull open the window, everything is glowing red. Bad things happen when I see red. Things, people, break.   
I climb out of the window, the air feels like it is moving against me. My knee skins on the pavement and I look up. That can’t be. No. I couldn’t have. It was the elevator; I see myself in the elevator now. And I walked out of the building, falling on the concrete.   
I struggle to stand up, falling against the stone wall. It is cool against my face. A light drizzle begins to rain down.   
“Ms. Maximoff?” I turn to see a man staring at me, he looks familiar. Does he work in my building? A nurse? An orderly? I can’t go back if I go back, it will start again. But I can’t go home. I push myself off the wall, staggering into the street. A car horn blares, and the lights shine at me, skidding on the wet cement. I put out my hands and the car comes to a stop, less than an inch from hitting me. No. This isn’t happening. More cars, more horns, Bright lights blinding me. My feet meet grass.   
I fall forward again, landing in a puddle as the freezing water splashes around me. Mud has soaked through my pajamas and my splint has gone missing, my fingers throbbing at my most recent landing.   
I want my mom.   
I skin my hands in the clearing up ahead, and I stare at the statue in the center, offering shelter from the rain. I crawl under the large bronze mushroom, pulling my legs to my chest.  
“It’s getting dreadfully dark and nothing looks familiar,” I try to ignore the red pulsing around me, “It’s getting dreadfully dark and nothing looks familiar,” I gasp for air between my tears. “Well, when- when one’s lost, I- I suppose it’s good advice to stay where you are, until someone finds you.” That is good advice, I need to take that advice.   
Dr. Beck shoving the dried mushrooms down my throat. The electrical burns. The broken fingers and track marks. The punishments. The red around my grows in intensity.   
“Painting the roses red, we’re painting the roses red,” I sing quietly as lightning cracks overhead, “Many a tear we shed, because we know they’ll cease to grow, in fact they’ll soon be dead.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a heavy chapter, I know. I'm sorry!! Things are no looking good for our girls- particularly Wanda.   
> Thank you all for reading- this series is 11 months old now which I cannot believe!! I appreciate all of you for sticking with my series and your comments, without them, this would have ended back with Welcome Home. 
> 
> Thank you all again!!


	45. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning for mental health**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you had a wonderful holiday season with those you love!  
> We are in the last two days of 2020, thank God! We are also nearing one year of this series!! Unbelievable! 
> 
> Kindred is ending soon, somewhere between 6-10 more chapters. This part of the series ends in August and it is May. And then we kick off part 5- the official last part of the series
> 
> Also, sorry for the delay. Word crashed and I lost the chapter, having to re-write from notes and memory. Thus, I am not 100% pleased with it, but I would sit on it for weeks if I didn't just publish it now. 
> 
> Happy New Year!!

My phone buzzes next to my ear, seeming to get increasingly louder. I stretch, and go to reach for it, only to realize I have fallen asleep on the couch while cleaning everything up. Wanda. I left her alone. I hadn’t meant for her to be by herself for so long. The buzzing persists as I grab the device, heading towards my daughter’s room.  
“Hello?” I answer, the sleep not quite out of my voice.  
“Ms. Romanoff?”  
“Speaking,” I rub my eyes and reach for the doorknob.  
“This is the NYPD,”  
“And not how the Avengers are normally called in,” I point out.  
“We are calling in regard to your daughter, Wanda.” The blood in my veins freezes.  
I fling open the door and burst in. The window is open, curtains billowing in the breeze. My mind flashes as I picture her on the pavement below, neck and spine broken, blood splattered.  
“We have your daughter here in Central Park,” Relief floods my body. “We request that you come down immediately before further action is required. She is,”  
“I know where she is.” Now that I know she is in Central Park, it is obvious where she would end up, intentionally or not. Especially given how close the sculpture is to our apartment, “I will be there in five minutes.”  
I make it in four, and even if I did not know the location of the monument, it would not be hard to find her as a red glow is emitted into the night sky, outshining any spotlight.  
I sprint into the clearing, nearly sliding on the slippery concreate, drizzled with rain. Cops are stationed around the circle, guns trained on the statue of Alice, and my little girl crouched beneath.  
“Ms. Romanoff,” I turn and see Peter, or rather Spiderman. He goes in for a hug, but quickly pulls back. “I told them they had to wait until you got here, to see if you could do anything. I tried,”  
“I need you to call Tony, make sure no press comes in or out of this area, and that includes overhead. I also want a gag order on all police personnel.” He nods and I direct my attention to the police. “You are all to lower your weapons immediately. And the snipers in those three trees,” I point out two behind me, and one straight ahead. “If anyone is to fire a single shot, there will be hell to pay, understand? I will make it my personal mission to ensure that your life is as miserable as possible,”  
“Ms. Romanoff,” The police chief approaches me, “We merely called you as a courtesy due to all you have done for this city. We have people coming in who deal with,”  
“I can have you fired tomorrow. Is that what you want?”  
“Well, no, but,”  
“Then you will obey when I tell you to stand down.” He looks over his shoulder and gives his men a wave, and their weapons lower.  
There is a growing forcefield of red surrounding her and the sculpture, as she hides underneath. The closer I get, the more I can make out her features. Through it all, I can hear her singing quietly to herself. Her entire body shakes, whether from the cold or tremors I do not know.  
Everyone around me collectively holds their breath as I approach the forcefield, but it does not even come close to harming me. Rather, it embraces me. Her powers recognizing my presence even before she does.  
Wanda cradles her hand to her chest, the splint is gone. Her pajamas are torn, and her hair has begun to fall out of the braid, hanging it damp clumps.  
“Hi love,”  
“It’s getting dreadfully dark and nothing looks familiar,” She interrupts her song, looking up at me, “You’re here, I’m not.”  
“It’s okay, I’m going to take you home,” I inch closer and she pushes back further, until her back is against the bronze stem.  
“In fact they’ll soon be dead,” She continues on with the song, speaking slowly, her eyes unfocused.  
“You’re not going to die today, I promise.”  
“If she saw white instead, she’d raise her voice, and each of us would quickly lose his head!” She hits her temples with the heals of her hand, still pulsing red.  
“Wanda,”  
“She saw white, he almost lost his head. She painted the roses red. I’m painting the roses red. Not blue, not green,”  
“Wanda, are your powers, are they painting the roses red?” She hits the side of her head harder, and I reach forward, pulling her hands into mine. The red shines through the cracks between my fingers, like a handful of fireflies.  
Wanda stares down at her hands and then up at me. A laugh erupts from her lips, unnerving and surprising. She shakes her head and then pinches her lips.  
“I can’t, no, this is the thought we dread,” she begins to sing again. If there is one fear of hers, one dread, I know what it is, no matter how preposterous.  
“You’re not going to hurt me,” I swear, inching closer until she is in my arms. “You are my daughter; you could never hurt me. I love you, and I am going to do everything I can to keep you safe.”  
“I saw white. I was falling down the rabbit hole and saw white, the there was eat me, drink me. The mushroom. I was too short for the doorknob. Then I painted the roses red,” She stumbles over her words, everything barely coherent.  
“You’re safe now, never going back.”  
“I’m safe. But what about you?” I continue to hold her, rocking her, and whispering phrases of love in her ear, telling stories of our time in Paris, Nantucket, and Connecticut. Finally, the last of her powers flicker out as she falls asleep in my arms. I crawl out carefully to not jostle her, as she appears to have fallen asleep. Peter and the police chief are the only two left in the clearing, and it seems Pepper and Tony have done their job, not a reporter in sight.  
“Ms. Romanoff,” Peter runs forward, halting upon seeing sleeping Wanda. The police chief says nothing, just dipping his head.  
Albert is long gone, as is the bellhop, Connor. She shifts in my arms, and despite her broken fingers, though partially healed thanks to Cho, she grips my sweater. Tears fall down her cheeks in her sleep.  
In the apartment, she barely stirs as I change her into fresh pajamas, and then lie her down in bed, pulling the covers up high.  
In the morning, she wakes beside me, immediately thrashing. I have been awake for hours, needing to be focused and ready. She struggles to get out of bed, wrapping herself in the sheets as they tangled around her prosthetic- I had respected her wish and kept it on through the night, though I regret it now.  
“Wanda,” I begin. She falls over the edge of the bed, and I quickly dash over to the other side, helping her off the ground. “Okay, I’ve got you,”  
Despite her rendezvous last night, she is still unsteady on her feet. Which explains the skinned hands and knees. She stares at me with large doe eyes.  
“Do you know where we are?” She takes a deep, shuttering, breath.  
“Apartment,”  
“Yes,” She holds tight to me.  
“Let’s go into the kitchen, get a cup of coffee,” I nearly support her completely in the three-legged race, not wanting to cause an argument this early with the wheelchair. I help her to sit down at the dining table and watch with concern as her hands jerk, bits of red shooting out, just barely tapering off before hitting something.  
I bring her a cup of coffee and some dry toast, hoping she will be able to keep it down. She just barely picks at the toast, showing no interest. She looks down into her lap, mouthing silently before raising her head.  
“I want to speak to Dr. Beck.”  
“Wanda,”  
“You know where he is,”  
“Yes,”  
“Please,”  
“I don’t see what good that will do,”  
“I need to speak to him. Please,” I give a nod of agreement and send a text to Steve. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and when I hear back from Steve, we can go,”  
“Steve, he um, is real. We saw him yesterday. Real. Yesterday was real. Right? I sat under a giant mushroom, not real,”  
“That was real, sweetheart.”  
“No, no. Giant mushrooms aren’t real. Not,” She shakes her head, her hands hitting the edge of her thighs.  
“It is a sculpture in Central Park.”  
“I don’t know,” Her eyes begin to turn purple again, and I grab her uninjured hand, squeezing.  
“Wanda, are you sure you want to see him? We could wait,”  
“I’m sure.” She squares her jaw, the stubbornness I love coming to the surface.  
I help her into sweatpants and a t-shirt, pulling on a pair of sneakers as well. She Her eyes flicker between red, purple, and blue as I braid back her hair.  
“Wanda,”  
“I’m fine!” She flairs up, her hands glowing red. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Her entire body is tensed up, as though she is prepared for me to strike her. When I rest a hand on her knee, she flinches.  
“I’m not mad at you, you’re safe and loved.” My phone pings. Steve. He coordinated a visit, and I almost wish he hadn’t been able to pull it off. “He is here, in New York, being held at FBI headquarters until they transfer him.” She nods, trying to appear stoic. “We,”  
“Let’s go,”  
The most concerning event of the morning is that she does not argue with me as I transfer her into a wheelchair. She is pliant and cooperative, neither of which I would have called her two months ago.

“Mom, it is too loud, so loud. Why is it so loud? They are all talking!” She yells into the silent room, trying to cover her ears. “They need to be quiet, please, I can’t,” She screws her eyes shut, taking deep breaths.  
“Just focus on the sound of my voice, forget all of them,”   
“Natasha, Wanda,” I look over my shoulder, seeing Steve. He looks at Wanda, not even bothering to hide his concern.  
“Man with a plan,” she breathes, “A fictional character from the 1940s, but is here. Old and young. You’re too old for her,” Her eyes begin to go purple once more, and confusion takes over her face.  
“Come on, stay here,” I glance over at Steve as I crouch down next to Wanda, trying to soothe her.  
“I’ll see how long until we can see him,”  
It turns out to be only minutes, as apparently, our presence is causing a disruption to their workday.  
We are brough into a small windowless room with one-way glass. Steve waits on the other side with several officials, and Wanda reaches for my hand.  
“You’re here with me.”  
“Yes, and I’m not going anywhere.” The heavy metal door swings open. Beck walks in, hands cuffed in front of him. Wanda sucks in her breath, staring at the man with a mix of revulsion and veneration. I do my best to school my features, but even the Black Widow can only do so much.  
“Hi Wanda,”  
“Dr. Beck,” She ducks her head.  
“You’re looking well,”  
“I am being good, I am getting bet,” she cuts herself off. “No! You hurt me. You are bad,”  
“Am I though?”  
“Y-yes, you told me things weren’t real. I, um,” she bites her cheeks, “Natasha is real. I have, I have,” I squeeze her hand, “Family? And friends,”  
“Are you sure?” He leans forward in his metal chair, a sickeningly sweet smile. Wanda falters.  
“You bastard,”  
“I couldn’t convince her you never existed, Ms. Romanoff. Maybe I should have just told her everything about you is true. You’re a whore for SHIELD, that kills for sport, takes pleasure in killing innocents, and has less humanity than,”  
The table between us rips in half and Beck is thrown from his chair, pressed against the wall a few feet off the ground. Wanda is standing up, her entire body shaking like a leaf.  
“You don’t get to talk about her. Or who she is. You hurt me, you used me like a lab rat. Made me into something I’m not.  
“Ms. Maximoff, you should not be seeing red,” Wanda looks around the room and instantly her powers deaden, Beck dropping to the ground.  
“I used to be one way,” Her knees start to knock together, and I lower her into her chair.  
“Wanda, I was making you better, but for all you know, you’ve never even left the hospital.” Color drains from her face. I lunge forward just as the metal door swings open. Steve hauls me back as guards come in and take Beck.  
The last thirty seconds, from Wanda throwing him against a wall to now, seem to have lasted hours. Steve relaxes his hold on me so I can go to Wanda. Her shoulders are folded in, her bony shoulder blades stick out like little wings under the fabric of her favorite t-shirt.  
“He’s wrong.” She hits the side of her leg and looks up at me. “He is wrong. I see him, here. We are not there.”  
“Yes,”  
“I think,” she pauses, her face screwing up as she tries to organize her thoughts, “I think,” She starts to shake her head, hitting her splint against her thigh, “I think,” she repeats, louder as she gets frustrated.  
“Take your time,” I am acutely aware of Steve over my shoulder.  
“There are too many, some need to come out,” She taps the side of her head.  
“We’ll sort through them, like we did before.” She stares at me, and then her eyes slide over my shoulder, not to where Steve stands, but the other, where no one waits.  
We go up to the compound for a medical check, and Wanda has become quiet once more in the car. I would give anything for her chatter, to hear her observations.  
“What do you think of going to the farm for a few days?”  
“Farm,” she tears her attention away from the window.  
“The Barton Farm,”  
“A farm where it is safe. Not a farm upstate, that is where dogs go.” My stomach twists.  
“I would never get rid of you, have you put down. You know that,”  
“It was a joke. Bad joke.” She fiddles with the brace.   
“No, it is good to hear you joking, really. I am happy to hear it,” She is quiet once more, and I am almost tempted to turn on the radio.  
“I think there is a pool, and I swam with Little Bear? I swam with a bear? No, it was,”  
“Lila,”  
“Yes! Lila, I swim with Lila when we are on the farm.”  
When we arrive, Yelena is waiting for us, Steve having arrived a while ago due to our detour to grab our bags at the apartment. She is smiling brightly, almost grimacing.  
“No one saying do this, do that,” Wanda looks at Yelena. Before I can piece together the reference, Yelena does, her smile becoming genuine.  
“Just can’t wait to be king, huh?”  
“Yelena,”  
“If I upset her, I leave. Da?”  
“Fine.” Wanda seems too pleased about sorting out something about Yelena for me to get rid of my sister, no matter how cross I am with her.  
After a great deal of scolding from Sam for allowing Wanda to see him, followed by my being witness to Steve’s scolding, and a few rounds of tests for Wanda, we are given the all-clear to leave the state of New York. Most of me wishes to escape to my home in New Zealand with Wanda, where no one will find us, and I can keep her from harm. But the rational part of me knows she needs them all. As do I.  
We avoid the full common room and head straight for the tarmac where Clint and Happy are waiting with the private jet.  
“No Yelena?” Clint searches behind us, expecting my little sister to come dashing out.  
“She has a mission. She’ll join us later,” Since the rounds of testing done earlier this afternoon, Wanda has become withdrawn, and on the plane, she hides herself in my embrace, face hidden.  
“Wanda, you know Clint,”  
“Necklace,” Is all I am given in response. I rub her back and hide my disappointment. I had hoped that after this morning, talking with Beck, it would click for her. That she would know that none of it was real. She knew he hurt her, but she is yet to grasp the extent.  
Clint and I sign for the flight to the farm, allowing Wanda to sleep. Her powers flicker in and out, but thankfully there are no incidents or curses from the cockpit.  
We touch down at the farm, and for the first time in recent memory, there is no greeting committee. Wanda manages to make it down the steps of the plane, but can go no further, her emaciated muscles unable to support her. There are still no protests. When we enter through the front door, I spy Cooper on the couch, watching TV, some colorful cartoon. He doesn’t issue a single greeting or acknowledgement our way. Wanda does not even notice, too busy taking everything in.  
“Familiar and foreign, everything is old and new,”  
Laura comes in from the kitchen, “Hi, welcome,” she wipes her hands on her apron.  
“Thank you,”  
“Lila is collecting eggs, she should be in any minute. Nate and Nicole are napping. I made chocolate chip cookies if anyone is interested,”  
“Do you want to go into the kitchen or go upstairs and rest?” I want her to take the second option, the dark circles under her eyes and the events of last night require it. But she says kitchen so quietly, were it not for my enhanced hearing, I wouldn’t have heard it.  
The back door swings open just as I lock her wheelchair in place. My legs are hit full force by Lila, who hugs me tightly. Wanda ducks her head, looking at her lap. Their last interaction was far from good, and I have no doubt, that despite not being entirely sure who the girl is, Wanda is feeling guilty for upsetting her.  
Lila releases me and turns her attention to her older cousin. She taps her arm, waiting for a response. I tense as Wanda shies away, drawing further into herself.   
“Wanda,” Lila verbalizes, the first time she has spoken since Christmas, now May. Her voice sounds older, and it makes my heart twinge a little. It also is unsure and scared, so different than the voice of the girl, who at one time, could not stop talking. Laura and Clint freeze from their tasks, watching the interaction play out. Wanda lifts her head.  
“I can’t talk to you unless you look at me,” Lila switches back to signing, while Wanda stares at her.   
“Wanda, honey, do you understand Lila?” I ask carefully.  
“Yes,” She signs awkwardly, her hand jerking.  
“I have something to show you,” Lila races upstairs, and I’m not sure if she expects us to follow. However, a minute later, she runs back into the kitchen, arms full of dolls, and drops them on the table in front of Wanda.  
“This is you as Barbie, I have three. This one is before you lost your leg, this one is after, and this is my newest one. I got it for my birthday,” She holds up the doll, showing how the prosthetic leg comes off. “And these are action figures, but I like Barbie better. She has accessories, like the ball gowns you wear to parties. You came with a quinjet, and an Auntie Nat doll.” She digs through the pile, pulling out a Barbie version of me, made when I still had long hair. The red locks pulled into a ponytail.  
“I don’t understand,” Wanda grips the armrests of her chair.  
“This is you as a My Little Pony,” Lila continues. I am getting ready to intervene, not Wanting to upset either girl further, “You’re famous,” Wanda starts to shake her head.  
“Where? We’re, I’m,” She starts to tap against her thighs again. Her brows are knit together and red starts to pulse in her fingertips, but then forces herself to relax, and looks up. “Lila,”  
“Yes, I told stupid Cooper you knew me,” She rolls her eyes. Wanda glances at me, as if checking to see if she responded appropriately, and I give her a smile. Cooper. I look back into the living room, and see he is gone.  
“Will you be okay if I head upstairs really quick?”  
“Nat, you don’t have to do that, I was just about to,” Clint begins.  
“I know Lila,” Wanda interrupts him, “I’m not going to,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m okay,”  
I reach the top step into the attach and see Cooper with his head bent over paper on his desk.  
“Hey Coop,”  
“Auntie Nat? Shouldn’t you be downstairs with,” He trails off.  
“She’s with your parents, and she is okay. What is up with you? Why are you hiding up here?”  
“Not hiding,”  
“Mhm,” I sit down on the edge of his bed. On the shelf above is a mix of trophies for science fairs and baseball, along with a Lego creation he made with Peter. He puts down his pencil, taking less time than I suspected.  
“What happened to Wanda? Dad said she went missing, and now she is back, but not really. She looks like how she did in old pictures, and she isn’t acting like her.”  
“Some really bad people took her, bud.”  
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a little kid. I’m almost an adult.”  
“They hurt her for two months straight, and Wanda went away a little. She is trying to find herself again, she’s in there, just buried deep.”  
“She didn’t know who I was, or she did kind of. She wasn’t making sense.” He does one of his father’s nervous tells, running his fingers through his hair.  
“I know. She has a lot of thoughts in her head right now, and it’s hard for her to say what she is thinking. They said a lot of things to her and made her think they were true.”  
“Like what?” he demands.  
“Like that we’re not real,”  
“That is crazy. Of course we are real. How could she believe them?”  
“There are powerful, bad people in the world. That’s why your dad and I have the job that we do, but sometimes, we just aren’t quick enough.” She had tried to warn me, than night, to reach me. And I had failed her.  
“She thought I lived in a treehouse and had a pet polar bear,”  
“Well, to be fair, you live in the attic and do have a polar bear,” I toss him B.  
“She remembered I liked to build things, and play baseball.”  
“Wanda didn’t forget you, or any of us. She is just confused and trying to work out her thoughts. But, we are going to help her, we just have to be patient. Do you want to come downstairs and say hi? She is working out her thoughts with Lila, and I’m sure she’ll have you figured out in no time.”  
Cooper follows me hesitantly down the stairs and into the kitchen. I feel great relief upon seeing Wanda playing with Lila, holding the dolls and asking about each one. She turns around, frowning.  
“You’re being loud,” She bites her cheeks, “No, wait, um,” She drops the dolls she is holding, “Not, I can’t,”  
“Hey, it’s okay, I was being a little too open and you heard me. You didn’t imagine it love.”  
“I’m sorry, I’ll be good,”  
“You’re being good, you’re safe.” She looks behind me.  
“Another little hawk. There are four.”  
“Nate and Nicole are napping,” I remind her. Cooper walks closer, and she begins to speak silently to herself before lifting her head. “You have B?”  
“It’s upstairs on my bed,”  
“You have B,” She nods, “I’m sorry for,” she pauses, “For, for, for,” she tries to rush through, as her eyes turn purple and then back to blue, before they, and her fingertips, burst bright red in frustration, then immediately calm down. “For scaring you? Yes, upsetting you, in my room. I’m getting better,” A shiver runs through her body with the statement, “I mean my thoughts, they are getting more organized.”  
“You know who I am now?” Cooper comes closer.  
“Cooper. Cooper Phillip Barton,”  
“You said you had holes,”  
“All plugged up,” She lies, trying to pick up a cookie, her hand shakes and the cookie drops to the ground. I swoop it up before Lucky can get to it. “Sorry. Nat, I’m tired.”  
“I’ll help you upstairs,”  
“I can pull out the couch,” Laura offers.  
“I want to sleep in my room,” Wanda speaks up, “If that is okay. It has a mural. Right? Not a clown, it’s good it’s not a clown.”  
“Why would it be a clown?” Cooper asks, Clint shoves a cookie in his mouth. I wheel Wanda to the back staircase in the addition, not nearly as steep as the front.  
“Can you carry me? I don’t,”  
“We need to build your strength back up, I’ll help you the whole way.” I support nearly all of her weight as she keeps a death grip on one railing and pauses unsteadily after each step. We arrive in the hallway housing our rooms, and I open up the door to hers.  
“Can you stay until I fall asleep?” she asks as I pull down the covers and help her sit, untying her sneakers.  
“Even then, I won’t leave.” I pull up the blankets and tuck her in, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest.

I stay in her room, taking dinner in there, and only leaving to go to the bathroom when Laura or Clint come to check in.  
It is nearly midnight when the need for my efforts becomes apparent. She is screaming, her arms tucked into herself as her eyes glow purple and she tries to get out of bed.  
“Wanda, it’s okay,”  
“This isn’t, you can’t. You’re not here!”  
“We’re at the farm, in your room. Can you tell me,”  
“I don’t know where I am, I know. Stop. Yes, I know.”  
“It’s okay, deep breaths,” I coach, as the grounding technique is thrown out the window.  
“We’re at the farm. The farm is safe,”  
“Yes, that’s right.”  
“The Barton’s, they live here,”  
“Mhm,” I rub her back.  
“Laura, Cooper, Lila, Nate, Nicole, and,” Her face tightens, “And, and,”  
“Clint,” I finish.  
“I knew that!” She snaps, pulling away. “I know that. I’m fine,” She curls up on her side, hugging herself.  
“Why don’t I make you a cup of tea?”  
“Tea doesn’t fix everything.”  
“Then what can I get you?”  
“I want my brain to,” She stops.  
“Cooperate?”  
“I had it! I don’t always need your help, Natasha! I went months without it!” She begins to cry, heavy, wet sobs. And I feel myself shattering. “I’m sorry,” She hiccups. “I love you, please don’t leave me, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m bad. I’m sorry,”  
“You are my world, love,”  
“Can I please have,”  
“The tea?” She nods her head. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,”  
I hurry down the main staircase and see Clint at the kitchen table with a wide-awake Nicole. Nearly six months old, Clint is trying desperately to get her to sleep with a warm bottle.  
“How is she?” he asks after I put a mug in the microwave. The dull drone is almost soothing.  
“Not great,” I admit, feeling like a failure. In the past, it only took a day or two for her to work out what is real and what isn’t, with just the occasional slip up, but I am yet to know what the purple eyes mean, as Bruce and Yelena comb through all the reports, which I have been barred from. “She is angry and scared, understandably so. She is starting to realize,” I work on how to phrase this, “That there is something wrong with her.”  
“She’ll recover fast, Nat. She already is. Today at the table with Lila, I know it wasn’t how it usually is, but compared to when we found her?” The microwave beeps. “The only person tougher than her is you. And you’re here for her.”  
“I wish I had as much faith in me as you do.”  
“Can I recommend something?” I look up from adding honey to the tea.  
“Don’t help her without her asking, or wait until she asks you for help.”  
“I hate to see her struggle.”  
“Yeah, but that is how they get stronger. Lila was falling a lot a few months ago, but now she is steady on her feet again. She may even go back to ballet this summer. It hurt Laura and I not to scooper her up each time she fell, but it was too her benefit. We can cushion their fall, but they have to get up on their own sometimes.  
“You getting wise in your old age, Barton?” I tease half-heartedly, watching the leaves seep in the steaming water.  
“I have my moments.”  
I walk back into the bedroom to find Wanda sitting up, splint removed and looking at her fingers. She bends them carefully, wincing, before putting the brace back on.  
“Hi,”  
“Thank you,” I hand her the mug, and think of Clint’s advise when I see her shaking hands, letting her sip it on her own, without me holding the cup. She places it on the nightstand after a few minutes, the only sound the crickets outside, and the only light coming from the full moon.  
“You are fixing me, gluing me back together.”  
“You’re not broken,” I immediately answer. She raises her eyebrows and looks so much like herself. “I’m trying,” I amend.  
“You are,” She has this prolonged moment of clarity, her eyes bright and focused, “You’re here.”  
“Yes love, I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our poor girls, I feel like I say that more often than I should! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and as always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated! 
> 
> Next chapter is Wanda's POV :)


	46. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I know, I suck I'm sorry!! I had some serious writer's block, this chapter was killing me, I have rewritten it so many times but have finally decided I just have to post it before I sit on it forever. Hope you all enjoy! As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!!
> 
> *sorry for any mistakes, I’m super tired and will fix them tomorrow!*

When Pietro and I were children, we used to play a game. One of us would close our eyes, and the other would have to move somethings around the room. After, the other would have to point out what has changed.  
That game has become my reality. Some things are identical no matter the reality. Natasha is my mother. She is kind and gentle. My name is Wanda. I’m from Sokovia. Though, after that, the inconsistencies cause my head to spin. Natasha is a superhero and looks barely old enough to be out of college, let alone parent an eighteen-year-old.  
There are so many other people in our lives. They existed in the periphery before. Like as a school bus driver, or perhaps my dentist. That is, Dr. Beck said, where I got there faces. I created stories for them.  
But they are real. Or rather I think they are. Their lives, and the locations, are so different that it is not as though a single object was moved, but a new room entirely. With Natasha and myself, that is not the case.  
I have made her upset with some of the things I have said, there are how I know they are changed, without her saying as much. Like her age. Or her hair, it’s shorter. Our home is still the same, but she is also more serious than I thought, more careful. I don’t know what to make of myself.  
I thought of this game a lot during my time with Dr. Beck. My room would change, and I would try to count the ways, sometimes he would leave me for a day or longer, stuck in that room. Sometimes, only one aspect would change, other times, the entirety of the space. Usually, the clown was the first to appear. That is how I knew I was due for another treatment.  
His leering face, eyes that bore into my very soul. I once told Dr. Beck I would rather be with the clown than him, he questioned what clown I was talking about. But he was there. He had to be there. Natasha said he was. Natasha wouldn’t lie to me. And I saw Dr. Beck at the FBI. We left the hospital. We aren’t there anymore. I’m not going back. I’m never going back. On the farm. I am on the farm. It’s real. Everyone here is real. I sit at the breakfast table next to Natasha as she chats affably with Clint. Her best friend flips pancakes on the stove as we wait for the rest of the household to wake.  
He turns down the burner and sits down, and I stare at his eyes, trying to figure it out. It doesn’t make sense.  
“Wanda, everything okay?”  
“You have human eyes. They’re blue.”  
“Yes?” He looks to Nat, unsure. What I am saying doesn’t make sense. None of them understand me. It is like I am speaking in riddles. I don’t mean to, everything is jumbled. Like putting together a puzzle face down.  
“Wanda, can you explain?”  
“I, um,” Come on, come on. “You shouldn’t, you should,” I bite my lip.  
“Take your time, no one is rushing you,”  
“It shouldn’t be this hard!”  
We have been here two days. Yesterday wasn’t good. I got confused and wandered out of the house, and my surroundings kept changing. Natasha didn’t like when I said, I don’t just need a collar, but a leash as well.  
I hear the front door open, and before I can wonder who it is, the newcomer announces herself, pulling the attention away from me.  
“Tasha, your favorite sister is here,”  
“My only sister,” Nat rolls her eyes and gets up to greet Yelena. Who is alive. This part is fuzzy. I remember her being dead, but also alive. But she was dead in both thoughts.  
“Wanda, I bring you present,” She drops are carton of strawberries in front of me.  
“So, the mission went well?” Nat opens up the container, plucking a strawberry for herself.  
“Da, I swipe data. And Tony, we have hacking competition, you miss it! Your man was referee.” Your man?  
“Who won?” Clint asks, dumping the rest of his coffee down the sink.  
“Who you think?” She is loud and fills up the space. I feel myself shrinking. I almost expect the strawberries’ label to say Eat Me. I won’t be falling down that rabbit hole again. I laugh at my joke and feel a squeeze on my hand. I remember the mushrooms and the injections and the torture. It wasn’t a hospital. It wasn’t. He wasn’t a doctor. He couldn’t have been.  
“You’re a gracious loser, Yelena.”  
“And you think you are funny, Stupid American.” She sits down beside me, “How is your hand and head?” I don’t meet her eyes. “You had started talking to me before,” She stares at me with sharp eyes, gleaming with intelligence.  
“Lena,” my mom scolds. I don’t want to be the cause of conflict between the two of them.  
“I’m sorry, I’m okay,” I speak up, stumbling over my words. We fall into an uncomfortable silence, “Thank you for,” I glance down at the fruit and can see the kitchen flickering into something else. I wait for the room to go back to normal before raising my head. Yelena looks to her sister. They share an unspoken conversation. And I don’t have to be a mind reader to know it is about me.  
I push back from the table, standing up. My head immediately starts to spin, or rather the room does, and my legs feel loose. I pair of hands that definitely aren’t Natasha’s grab onto me. I yelp, pulling back and slipping out of their grip, falling to the ground. My bony hip makes contact with the hard floor and I cry out in pain.  
I hold my head in my hands, keeping my eyes closed. When I open, I don’t know where I’ll be. What I will see. Where I have really been. Who’s hands? Who else was in the kitchen? Unless it was a new orderly? But that wasn’t real. No, the hospital was real. Right? Natasha came and picked me up. That was real. Yes. But the room, it was changing. Going back? Or was it go to something else?  
“Wanda,”  
“We’re on the farm!” I blurt out before I can be told otherwise.  
“Yes, we are.” Natasha brushes my hair away from my face. Yelena is staring at me in horror, her hands outstretched. She had been the one to catch me.  
“I broke the rules,” Let him do what he needs to do to make me better. Take me where I need to go. He knows best, he is a doctor. I’m a killer, deranged. He is doing me this kindness. “I broke the rules,” A privilege taken away. Or ECT. I don’t want ECT. But that wasn’t real. Were the shocks real? What was happening and what wasn’t?  
“You are safe, no one is going to hurt you,”  
“Why is this happening to me?” I moan, “I don’t want this! I don’t want it!” I struggle to stand up, pushing out of Natasha’s arms. “I want, I want,” I clench my fists as I feel a nerve twinge in my leg. From cutting it off. Or getting shot. Both can be seen so clearly in my head. Both had to have happened. Or no, only one. I can only lose it once. “He told me things, bad things, but others were worse. I tried to commit genocide? That can’t be true, right? That’s not true,” I back into the china cabinet, the glass doors begin to rattle.  
“Wanda, match my breaths,” Nat steps closer.  
“And that I tried to kill you? But I wouldn’t, right? You are my mom. There are so many thoughts! I can’t, too many. I didn’t kill you. You’re here. I almost did. Is that right? There was so much blood. I didn’t mean it. I promise I didn’t mean it.” There is blood all over her comforter, and she is splayed out on the blood, crusted blood drying on her lips as the crimson paint stains the white porcelain surfaces of the bathroom. I drink in her blood as I perform CPR, trying to get her to breathe. My lungs won’t fill with air, they are constricted, tight.  
“Focus on the sound of my voice, you’re here, with me. We are in the kitchen at the farm. Clint and Yelena are here. No one is trying to hurt you or me, we’re safe,”  
“This is what he wanted, this must be it. He wanted me to be with you, to hurt you, to kill you. Ross, he was bad. I know that, I thought he saved me from Ross. In a better place. Ross, tapped a maple tree. In the trunk,” My mind sparks with what he said, trees, “It has to come from somewhere. I read this,”  
“It’s okay, they will never hurt you again,”  
“I’m not making sense, they, it’s crowded,” So many thoughts, so many lifetimes. I hear laughter from upstairs. The kids are waking up. I scared them before. I don’t want to do that again. They are young, and care for me. “I want to go,”  
“You want to leave the farm?”  
“No, maybe. I,” There is a flooding of other thoughts in my head. Abstract ones, shapes and concepts. How can I see or here concepts? That doesn’t make sense. They don’t have words. Why aren’t there words? “Mom,” I feel sick. There are other thoughts too, about baseball, horses, chickens, and a mix of languages. “Mom,”  
We are back in my bedroom. It is quiet. In my head and outside. She sits beside me, reading as I wake up from my post-panic nap. My meltdown was hardly the worst I’ve head. Nothing broke, and I was already broken. Not as bad as yesterday, our first full day here, when I was outside with Lila and got confused. I ended up getting lost on the expansive property.  
I turn over on my side and she immediately starts rubbing my back. She is so attentive and loving, I don’t deserve her. I was cruel, again, just the other night, telling her she wasn’t there for me for so many weeks. As if she had a choice in the matter. I know she would bend the laws of space and time if it meant being back with me, making sure I am safe.  
“It’s better up here, not so many other voices. Just mine,”  
“Good, I was getting worried for you.” I hear her book snap shut, “Scooch over,” I turn to look at her and do as she asks. She pulls down the covers, climbing in next to me. Her sweatshirt is too big, Army Strong emblazoned across the front. “I’m sorry I brought you here, it was selfish. We should have stayed in the apartment.”  
“Everything is getting clearer every hour. But then I hear so many thoughts. It shouldn’t be so many. I think a lot but it is,”  
“You just have to filter and block them out. You got really good at it before,”  
“I’m not the same as before,”  
“No, you’re not.” She concedes, “But that’s okay. I’m not the same person I was yesterday, or the day before. We are a culmination of our experiences,”  
“But some of mine weren’t real,”  
“Yes, and that makes it incredibly difficult to move forward from here. But you get to decide who you want to be each day. You pick,”  
“Pick?”  
“You choose.”  
“I don’t feel like I have a choice.”  
“You always have one, love. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.” She presses closer, our shoulders touching.  
“Do you know why he did this to me? If he wasn’t trying to help me,”  
“He was using you, to try and improve some type of technology. Your powers,”  
“No.” I cut her off, “Not powers, they aren’t real.”  
“Wanda,”  
“They can’t be,” Because that would mean that I am worse than Beck said, far worse. That I made Natasha live through the most horrific experience of her life, that I destroyed my home country, got Pietro killed in a quest for vengeance. I look down at my hands, glowing red. Natasha takes them in hers, and the red slips through the cracks between her fingers.  
“You’re more than what they made you to be, Wanda. You’re my daughter, fierce and loyal. Kind and brave. The light of my life. Just because someone can be dangerous, that doesn’t mean that’s who they are.” She smiles, “I mean, Lucky can be dangerous. He has fangs, but when you look at that pup, he doesn’t seem like a threat, right?”  
“I guess not.” The last of the red dies down, “I don’t want to be a witch. The story always ends the same for her,” Nat raises her eyebrows expectantly, “Dying a horrible death.”  
“I will do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen to you,” She brushes aside my hair, “Do you want to go downstairs? Cooper texted and informed us that we will be going on a picnic to the backyard, per Lila’s request.”  
We head down the stairs, and I find myself steadier than a few hours earlier. Though I am yet to work up an appetite for lunch.  
“Auntie Nat, you’re just in time to make sandwiches,” Lila pulls Natasha away from me and into the kitchen. However, I don’t lose my balance, instead skirting the wall into the sunroom, as listening to Cookie Monster in the living room with Nate does not seem appealing. I’m happy to sequester myself in the dining room, where my mind can be coaxed into silence with greater ease.  
Outside, I can see the pool, rolling hills, and the forest I got lost in yesterday. There is a pond as well, through a patch of trees. It is almost as though there is never a reason to leave this place.  
“Wanda?” I turn my attention away from the window. Cooper stands in the doorway, neither in nor out. He has been avoiding me, not that I blame him.  
“Cooper,” He grins when I say his name, “You can come sit, it is your house,” I point out.  
“How are you feeling?” I shrug, not wanting to lie to him, and pull the blanket I had draped over my lap tighter. “So you remember everyone? Everything?”  
“I never forgot.” I pull my sleeves over my hands, “I shouldn’t though. It was supposed to go away. But the longer between treatments, the clearer it gets.”  
“I don’t know what that means,” he admits.  
“I was told what was real and what wasn’t. People don’t have wings and turn green. Soldiers a hundred years old, man of steel flying around,”  
“I think you mean Ironman, Superman is not real”  
“Salt,” I agree, “Wait, no, um,” I close my eyes, “Pepper.” My heartbeat is picking up.  
“So, he really convinced you the Avenger’s don’t exist? That we don’t exist?”  
“You do exist, I know that. You are real. Maybe not there, but here, you’re real.” He frowns and I try to find a way to explain it, “Before, it felt like this life was slipping away and being replaced with something else, but now, both are up here, too many thoughts and memories. It’s busy.”  
“So the holes, and dripping that you mentioned,”  
“All clogged up.” Cooper comes further into the room, and then sits in the armchair next to the couch.  
“Well, I’m real. I promise. Cross my heart,”  
“Thank you, Cooper.”  
“Can you make waves in the pool while you’re here?”  
“Like splashing?”  
“No, with your powers, like how over the summer,”  
“No. I can’t.” I pull my covered hands closer to myself and sicken when I see they have come to rest in the same location that the straight jacket held them. Cooper doesn’t try to continue the conversation, but I am surprised when he doesn’t leave either. Instead, he picks a book up off the side table and sits with me in silence.  
The rest of the family walks in a few minutes later, armed with all the makings of a delicious lunch. Nat helps me down the back steps, while Yelena spreads a blanket across the grass. Nicole tries to crawl but isn’t there quite yet.  
They lay out the spread and everyone eats, joking and laughing throughout the meal. I pick at the grapes and before me, not even able to stomach one of Nat’s sandwiches that I love so much. And my thoughts keep drifting to Yelena. The kids race off to play in the fields, leaving me alone with the adults and baby Nicole. I chew my cheeks raw, my mind whirling with so many thoughts.  
“Wanda, are you okay?”  
“How can someone be both alive and dead at the same time?”  
“Okay, Schrodinger,” Clint jokes, but Nat tilts her head.  
“Wanda, you can ask me anything,”  
“I’m okay, just, um, working some things out,” I regret opening my mouth and remove myself from the conversations around me, retreating to my thoughts.  
Later that afternoon, as I pass by Clint’s office on the way to the bathroom, the hushed voices behind the door give me pause.  
“So, you figured out what the purple eyes mean?”  
“Da. Was in notebook, they,” Yelena cuts off. There is the sound of footsteps from the other side of the door, and I try to move away quickly, only to come face to face with Nat.  
“Hi love,”  
“Sorry, I wasn’t, I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping,”  
“You may as well come in, I don’t think you could keep your curiosity at bay,” I duck my head and the door opens wider. Clint is also inside, lounging at his desk, polishing his bow.  
“She can hear?” Yelena’s mouth twists to the side.  
“Better that she hear it now than when she comes across herself in the mirror,” Natasha sighs, and brings me to the armchair, perching herself on an arm. Yelena is sitting with her legs crisscrossed on the desk.  
“Bruce and I finish reading through notebooks. We find chart of eye color. Purple he forced happen, took weeks.”  
“Are you trying to build suspense right now?” Nat accuses.  
“Purple mean she here, but not. Ugh, give me second,” She taps her lip, “When eyes are purple, some things change others remain same. Is why she knew she was in hospital, but some things off. Like how you thought was new building, not abandon. See nice room, not clown.” No, that can’t be true. I look down at my hands. They were red earlier, but that wasn’t real. I was seeing things. There has to be an explanation. This can’t, what I’ve done. I take a deep breath.  
“What do you mean purple eyes? My eyes changing color, seeing red, I wasn’t making sense before. That was the drugs,”  
“Wanda, you know your eyes change color when you use your powers,”  
“No! They aren’t real, they can’t be real. None of this can be real. We aren’t here, I’m, I can’t be here,”  
“Love,”  
“I’m not a witch, or enhanced, or whatever you want to call it! That would mean I was kidnapped, that the hospital, he wasn't just a bad doctor, he was a sociopath. And I tried to kill billions of people, not just a few. That I got Pietro killed, that I forced you to relive your sterilization, my leg was shot off, and Steve was paralyzed by the anti-serum,” The words spill out of my mouth faster and faster. All the thoughts I have heard in the past few days, the ones I haven’t been able to stop in addition to my own. Their consequences. If my powers are truly real, everything else is too.  
“Stop,” Natasha’s voice takes on an edge, but my words go over hers.  
“Which means that the thought I heard, it was real, what I saw was real. You shot Yelena. Her blood is the antiserum. She’s the reason you still have the scar from the Winter Soldier. Yelena. She is Madame B’s granddaughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!!! Sorry!! I come back from hiatus and throw us right back into the thick of things. 
> 
> Poor Wanda, realizing everything that has happened, finally sorting everything out in her head. Only to realize that means everything is real- the years as a prisoner being experimented on, Nat's torture, Yelena well, you saw. And being kidnapped again. Fun fact about me: Someone tried to kidnap me once, I always wonder what would have happened if they had succeeded.  
> Next chapter will be Nat's POV, and I am sure you are all on the edge of your seats, sorry!! I will definitely try to be faster than two weeks this time!!


	47. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! As promised, a new chapter!! I know, me posting on schedule when I said I would, it's wild! Thank you all for reading, and as always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated! 
> 
> I recommend reading the mini fic below before this chapter, but it will make sense without!  
> https://natandwandaseries.tumblr.com/post/636539691756290048/yelena

“And the explosion, the fire,” Wanda continues, starting to hyperventilate. She continues, her words breaking off into mutters as she folds in on herself. Her words don’t hold any gravity to her, I feel Yelena’s stare, as she is frozen in place. Clint is on his phone, and I don’t know which of my girls I am supposed to comfort.  
“Tasha,” Yelena speaks, her voice cracking, “We were in woods,” My throat tightens. “I need walls put back up,” Tears stream down her cheeks, but her face is flat, not a wink of emotion. Red begins to pulse out of Wanda’s fingertips, forcing me into action, as I cannot allow the powers to grow in this small space.  
“Wanda, love,” I turn back to her, and she looks up at me from the armchair, her cheeks being chewed raw and her eyes wide pools of despair.  
“I’m not going into her head, I won’t go back in,”  
“We need to put the walls back up,” I say gently  
“No, I don’t, no,” She shoves her hands in her pockets, “I should have cut them off, not my leg. But I didn’t cut off the leg, that is the point,”  
“I not make her do this,” Yelena brushes away her tears. “Bruce, he do it.”  
“He’s in DC, we’d have to fly there right now,”  
“Then we go.”   
“We don’t have a quinjet, a private jet,” I look to Clint.  
“Already texted Steve, he’s on his way.”  
“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to know. I know that now. I built them, I know. And I listened when I wasn’t supposed to. I didn’t mean to; I didn’t know it was real.” She heard me when she didn’t have control over her powers, or rather still doesn’t.  
“Wanda, I love you,” Yelena beats me to comforting her, crouching down in front of the armchair. The stoic face she was trying to maintain has broken, and the pain she is in is clear, “You just human,” Wanda stops crying to look at Yelena, her powers dimming.  
“Steve’ll be here in an hour.” Clint speaks up.  
“I need air,”  
“You can’t be alone,” I bite my lip and look to Wanda.  
“Hey Wands, how about some hot cocoa?”  
“It’s May,” She sniffles.  
“Even better, we’ll have chocolate milk,” Clint pulls Wanda out of the office and into the kitchen. Yelena stalks out as well, heading towards the front door. I can see her unravelling now that Wanda is gone, desperately trying to hold herself together until we get out of the house. There are emotions flooding her, and memories. Of trying to kill me and Clint. Of discovering that Madame B is her grandmother, and that she killed her mother. That she is the reason we were sterilized. When we get onto the porch, she pulls me into a hug, weeping into my shoulder. Her body shakes and tremble. I rub her back as I do with Wanda, hoping it will calm her down. It has been ten years since I last saw her like this, and the outcome was horrible.  
“It’s okay, Lena,”  
“Is my fault. Your scar, Wanda losing leg. Is my fault. Everything. Tasha, they keep me in cell for years, wet and cold. It hurt, they use trigger words. Where they get them?”  
“It’s okay, no one blames you,”  
“Wanda blame me, why she bring it up.”  
“You know that’s not why,” We walk away from the house, “She loves you. There aren’t many people she would sneak into a gala with,” I tease, recalling their night if mischief before she got kidnapped, and dancing at the Tower in the middle of the night.  
“I would die for her,”  
“I know,”  
“You would no longer die for me.” I don’t say anything, “Good, I don’t deserve,”  
“Don’t say that.”  
“I related to the person who tortured you. To Madame B. Natalia,” I shudder. Yelena realizes her mistake, backing up from me. “Sorry, you are not Natalia.” She runs her fingers through her hair, “And Budapest, Sao Paolo,”  
“You weren’t in Budapest,” I remind her. She blinks at me and then sinks to the ground, still wet with last night’s rain.  
“They always use me to hurt you. In Red Room and make my blood into weapon. Now you always reminded of him. Because I wouldn’t die.”  
“I am so thankful you did not die, Little Sister,”  
I know we have at least a few more hours before the flood of emotions run out, before she becomes a mindless killing machine like the Winter Soldier, but she is spiraling fast.  
“Yelena, why don’t you tell me a happy memory you have of us?” I try and distract her. “I can go first,” I take her hair out of the messy ponytail and begin to run my fingers through it, undoing the tangles. “Do you remember the first time I snuck you sweets? It was for your thirteenth birthday. I had just had one of my first mission, not a solo one of course, but they left me alone for a few minutes at the train station. I went over to a newsstand and stole a chocolate bar. By the time we got back to the Red Room, it had started to melt under my shirt.” I laugh, remember the squishing under the sports bra. “I was given permission to go change before dinner and ran up to the dormitory, and ripped a hole in your mattress, shoving the candy in there.”  
“You made thirteenth birthday not so bad,” Yelena turns back to me. Her hair is now in two French braids. With her youthful face and the hairstyle, she looks Wanda’s age. “You made Red Room not so bad.”  
“I’m still sorry I left you there,”  
“For few months. You came back. I tell you not to and you do anyway.” She gets up off the ground.  
“Yelena, can you please stay over here?”  
“On jet, when you mention bad blood,” I wince. “I not have as many blocks as you. Only handful.” She crosses her arms, staring off into the field. “They take away so much of your life, and make me watch all.”  
“I’m sorry,” She turns on me as soon as the words at uttered, fists clenched and teeth bared in a snarl.  
“ _Stop apologizing for what they did, especially for what they did to me. The only reason I can even function is because you gave your life for mine. You need to get it through your thick skull that you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. Better than the Red Room falling, better than escaping captivity. You, Tasha. If I had to choose between never being in the Red Room and having you in my life, I would go through it all again_.” I stare at her, surprised by not only the language switch, but the words spoken. And she won’t remember a single one of them. But I will.  
“I would never ask you to choose such a thing,”  
“I know, is why I would.” She lies back on the grass, staring up at the sky, likely becoming soaked. “I see train,” My heart clenches at our old childhood game. I lie down beside her and look up at the clouds, propped up on my elbows.  
“I see a cumulonimbus,”  
“Is not how you play,” She shoves me. “You know how to play,”  
“I see a ballet slipper,”  
“I hate ballet.” She spits out the word. “Is evil dance.”  
“It’s beautiful.”  
“Is cruel and deadly.” She falls silent. I can only imagine the thoughts beginning to fill her head as more memories unlock. As of now, she only knows she killed her mother, based on that file that she found years ago, but soon, she’ll know her mother was her first kill. And she wasn’t even supposed to survive. I spot the quinjet approaching.  
“That’s our ride.”  
“Your man,”  
“I guess so,”  
“You guess so, Tasha please.” She huff. “Let’s put walls back up before I try and kill you.” She says it lightheartedly, but her eyes betray her.  
The gangplank drops down from the quinjet and Steve jogs over to us, still in sparring gear from the compound.  
“Hey, I came as quick as I could,” He eyes Yelena warily. She doesn’t greet him as she normally would- with jokes and a grin, instead she walks up into the jet.  
“I’m going to grab Wanda, can you stay with her?”  
“Of course,” Steve turns and heads inside the jet, and Clint meets me on the front porch. He has our bags, likely Laura had packed them for us.  
“We’ll be back,”  
“I know, we have a vacation coming up, I didn’t forget.” He gives me a fake smile. Wanda is despondent, curling into me when she has steps away from Clint. Her body is still so frail, her bones sharp and pointed, and her clothes hang off her narrow frame.  
Clint follows us to the quinjet and hands over the bags, giving only a quick nod to Steve as we climb on board. It would have been easier to leave Wanda here and come back in a few days once Yelena is all set. But it wouldn’t be fair to Wanda and the Barton’s. I also don’t think I could handle having her so far away.  
Inside, Yelena is locked up, ankles and wrists cuffed with smart restraints that not even Steve could break out of.  
“What the hell?” I turn to him.  
“Was my idea, Tasha. Be nice to your man.” Yelena’s face is ashen, and I realize she has been had ten years’ worth of torture flash through her eyes. I try to hold back my utter surprise when Wanda pulls away from me unsteadily, her fawnlike walk over to the cockpit is quickly supported by Steve who helps her into the copilot’s seat.  
I sit down beside Yelena, and she presses her side up against me like when we were children, sneaking into each other’s beds.  
“I remember getting message to meet you at apartment. I was so excited. Was proof you weren’t dead like they said. They start using me like you when you gone. When you contact me, I know I am going to be safe.”   
“I shouldn’t have left you,”  
“I told you to go. They kill you if you didn’t. When I meet Clint, I thank every God that could be real for him. You would have come back if he not find you.”   
“Yes.”   
“They have kill you. And then Avengers not be a thing, Clint would be dead, your girl dead. You supposed to leave me. And you come back anyway. You always come back.” She shutters as another memory hits, and I know it won’t be long now until she remembers killing her mom. I just hope we get the walls back up before then.  
We touch down at the Avenger’s DC headquarters. I hadn’t been here since Clint lost his hearing years ago, and when Wanda tore down the walls of the safe house. We had known each other only week at that point.  
Very little manages to surprise me, but as the door to the quinjet drops, Fury walks onboard.  
“Romanoff, it’s been a few months. Belova,” Yelena, normally so snarky, has gone quiet.  
“Sir,” Steve rises from the pilot’s seat.  
“Banner is on his way. Should be here in ninety minutes.” His eyes drift behind me and I see Wanda. “Hi Maximoff,” His voice takes on a gentle quality that I don’t think I have ever heard from him. “How are you doing?”  
“This is my fault,”  
“No, kid, it’s not. It was the Red Room bastards.” Wanda bites her lip. “Yelena, I am going to need to borrow you for some questioning before those blocks go back up.” My sister looks to me. I give a small nod and she rises from her seat, following Fury off the quinjet.  
“We could get something to eat,” Steve offers up, “I don’t think Wanda has ever been to the diner, it’s only a few blocks from here.”  
“What do you think love?”  
“I’d like to go.” Wanda tugs on her fingers that have been wrung raw. Normally, we would have walked, but given Wanda’s unsteadiness, driving is definitely in order. It is odd, driving through my old neighborhood with Steve. The Italian restaurant is gone, a cycling gym in its place, the old coffee shop is operating under a new name. But the art supplies store, the Silver Swan, still remains. We pull into the parking lot of the diner, and I see our booth is open. “You’re going to love it here,” I promise her. The place is practically empty, a godsend, given the odd hour, not many people eat around three o’clock in the afternoon. The bell above the door jingles as we step inside.  
“Well, as I live and breathe.” A voice behind the counter proclaims.  
“Flora,” I grin.  
“It has been years since I last set my eyes on you,” She clucks, “I know you’re busy saving the world, but you could at least stop by and say hi,”  
“We did come by a few months ago, you weren’t here,” Steve offers.  
“Excuses,” She waves away, “And who is this?” She of course knows who Wanda is, everyone on the planet does, but I see Wanda blush and smile, thrilled and unaccustomed to having to introduce herself.  
“I’m Wanda, it’s nice to meet you,”   
“Flora, nice to meet you as well. You kids head into your usual seats and I’ll bring over drinks.”  
“This is where you went every night?” Wanda looks around at the chrome and red interior.  
“Yes, Flora worked the nightshift,” I look through the menu and Flora brings by three waters and coffees.  
“Glad to finally see you two are dating, took long enough.” Steve chokes on his water, coming out his nose.  
“How did you know?” He rasps.  
“I’ve got an eye for these things. How about some pie on the house?”  
“No lemon meringue for me please.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.  
“Sure thing,” She gives me a smile as Wanda looks down at her hands.  
“Honey,”  
“I had it in the car, with the rolls,” She wrings her hands. “I picked it up, you mentioned once that it was someone’s favorite.” Her eyes dart around the room, checking every corner.  
“Hey, you’re safe here with me and Steve. Nothing is going to happen to you.”  
“I’m sorry about Yelena,”  
“It happens, it is an occupational hazard,” I take her hand in mine, but she looks to Steve, and with burning intensity. If her eyes were red, I would think she were having a conversation with him.  
“And we know that whatever Yelena does, it isn’t her fault, it’s not who she is.” Wanda appears satisfied by this statement, the little fire that had ignited in her burning out just as quick as it went up.   
Flora brings over three slices of apple pie with dollops of whipped cream. She also has a plate of fresh cut strawberries.  
“I heard through the grapevine they are your favorite,” The old woman winks at Wanda. Throughout our meal, my thoughts continue to drift to Yelena, the concern I have for her building with each passing minute. I shouldn’t have left, even if there was nothing for me to do, I should have stayed. This was an error in judgement on my part. But Wanda needed to get away, I know that is why Steve offered, and taking her here, where she knows we have so much history, served as a distraction for her.  
We are finishing up our pie when my phone starts to ring. Fury’s name flashes across the screen. I don’t even have time for a greeting.  
“Romanoff, you are needed back here.”  
“What happened?” I get up from the table, pulling a fifty out of my wallet. Steve and Wanda follow and Flora waves us out, sensing the urgency.  
“She convinced a junior agent she didn’t the restraints anymore. The building is under lockdown, so she is still here,”  
“But she could be spiraling into a killing spree,” I finish. Steve tosses me the keys to the Mustang we borrowed from headquarters and I catch them one handed.  
We zip through the streets and make it back to the building in under ten minutes, even with city traffic. Fury is waiting by the entrance he texted me, the only unsealed door, and lets the three of us in.  
“Where is she? Do you have eyes on her?”  
“What do you think?” Fury rolls his eye.  
“Steve, take Wanda to the common area, I am,”  
“I don’t need to be handled!” She snaps, but then instantly flinches like I had shocked her. Steve and Fury don’t miss the reaction either.  
“I know, love, but it would make me feel better,” When Yelena has been secured, there is still a mountain of trauma to work through with Wanda, even if the flashes of her personality are coming through more and more.  
Steve leads Wanda down the hall, and even though it makes me sick to leave, her at least with Steve she will be safe.  
“Roof access points are secured, right?”  
“First thing we checked.” I nod, “I’m going to need floorplans dropped on my phone,”  
“You know where she is going?”  
“I have a pretty good idea. Make sure that no one engages her, if they see her, call me.” Fury gives me a nod, and I try to figure out why he is smiling, almost looking proud, but it is quickly replaced by his usual stern demeanor.  
My phone pings as the floor plans are dropped and with a quick once over, they are memorized. I hurry to a wall and pull off a wall panel, exposing a tight crawl space filled with wires and electrical panels that fill the smart building. There is also a narrow ladder snaking up the wall. I immediately begin to climb up, having a good inkling for where she is headed. She would have gotten ahold of the floorplans as soon as she broke free, likely escaping into the wall paneling just as I have.  
I end up having to hop ladders in the narrow space, and it feels like I am trapped in a video game. At one point, the space is so tight that I scarcely have room to breathe. Then, it opens up as I reach the area above the top floor. It is filled with tech equipment and servers, airconditioned to stop the system from overheating. Of course she would see this space and instantly know what it is. It is why I had picked this room to be mine, though I can count the number of times I have even stayed here on one hand. I reach a cabinet sized door with a warning sign, stating that there is high voltage electricity behind it. I pull it open, the hinges creaking, and am prepared when hands fly to my neck.  
I quickly roll over into the room, getting her away from the computers. She fights messily, yet to realize it is me, and fueled with emotion. I let her pin me to the ground, and she gets a look at my face in the dim light. Her hands, so tight around my neck, instantly release.  
“Tasha, no, I didn’t know,”  
“It’s okay, Lena.” I sit up, ignoring the throbbing. Another second and she could have crushed my windpipe, not that I would have let it happen. “Why did you run from them?”  
“I couldn’t, the questions,”  
“I shouldn’t have left,”  
“You needed to take care of your girl. She is first,” Yelena puts herself into the corner of the empty room, truly just an empty crawl space. “How you find me?”  
“There is an emergency hatch to the roof on the floorplans right here, but it was never put in. It is also above my bedroom,”  
“Why you not come in through the ceiling of your room?”  
“Because you would have just dropped down and ran off. I know you, sestra.”  
“No, I terrible.”  
“I know it all, and you are not.” I crawl over to the corner where she has sequestered herself and am surprised when she rests her head on my lap.  
“I remember killing her.”  
“I know,”  
“She let me. She had weapons. I feel her neck snap, she was first kill. Madame let me kill daughter.”  
“She wasn’t a real mother.” I stroke her hair. “Your mother sacrificed herself so you could live. I would do the same for Wanda, Laura would for her kids, and Pepper for the baby on the way. Madame she wasn’t a mother, she just gave birth.”  
“I had mother, for ten years. She used to watch me train. I never know why. Even praise me after I break Lada’s arm. I thought she just different than other girls, like you.” I remember Yelena’s mother, Adelina, as ruthless and one of the oldest Widows in the program. But she had a soft spot for Yelena, her daughter. She was willing to die for her.  
“The Red Room had nothing on a mother’s love, Yelena. It is the only thing they truly feared, because they knew they had no power over it. She gave her life to save yours, and I’m sure she would have done it a thousand times over,”  
“I won’t remember. Her sacrifice, it is unappreciated,”  
“No. It isn’t. I appreciate it, and right now, you can too.” I continue to comfort my sister until she falls asleep, curled up in my lap, and looking down, I can still see the little girl in the pinafore and bright blue eyes. And what I used to say when we were children, but now I understand differently. Because for Adelina, it was true. Just as it is for me. “Lena,” I whisper to my sleeping sister, “You made her world go round.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all didn't think I would let anything happen to the Sassiest Widow did you? ;)  
> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter and are having a great week!  
> Also, the series is officially over 500,000 words!! Thank you all for sticking with me this past year 🥰


	48. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you enjoy :) 
> 
> As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!!

“Wanda, can you try taking a few steps towards me?” My legs shake. “It’s okay, you’re not going to fall,” Chad encourages. I bite my lip and let go of the table. One foot in front of the other. “Stop looking at your feet and look at me instead. I mean, this face, how could you not want to?” I snort and drag my eyes away from my feet, “There you go, you’re almost to me,”  
“You-you are backing up,” I accuse as he continues to stay the same distance away.   
“But look,” He offers his arm. I turn to see and realize what I have done. I made it across the length of the gym. “You killed it today, Wands.”   
“Why aren’t you scared of me?”  
“You? Nothing more than a little kitten,” He teases, but frowns when he sees I’m serious, “I’ve known you for more than a year. I mean, sometimes you can be a little spicy,”  
“Chad,”   
“You’re a good person. One who is too young to have gone through so much.” He hands me my crutches. “Now, your mom promised me one of her famous sandwiches that I am yet to try,”   
In the kitchen, Nat is finishing up the PB and J’s, smiling when we walk in. She puts one in a bag, handing it to Chad.   
“Thanks Romanoff,” He grins, taking the Ziploc. “See you next time, Wanda. And great job again today,”   
“Why does he call you Romanoff?”  
“He was my physical therapist when I was an agent, everyone called me that back then.” Natasha slides me my sandwich, cut into fourths. “Y.ou are looking better every day,” A glass of what looks to be chocolate milk is placed in front of me as well, one that has been appearing at more and more meals  
“I know that is a protein shake,”   
“Good, then we have an understanding,” She leans on the counter, waiting for me to start eating. I take a small bite of the sandwiched. Satisfied, Nat turns around to load up the dishwasher. She moves quickly and efficiently, and I think of days when she is dancing as she does the tasks, Friday playing music over the speakers.   
“I’m sorry.”   
“For what?” She dries her hand on a dishtowel.   
“I’m being,” I try to think of how I can phrase this without upsetting her more, “difficult.”  
“You have gone through something traumatic and are making amazing strides. I couldn’t be prouder,”  
“Stop doing that!” I bark. The cup holding my protein shake breaks, sending the chocolate drink splaying across the counter. She doesn’t even raise her eyebrows and begins to clean up the mess.   
“It was just an accident,” She brushes the shards of glass into the trash. “I am going to go for a run on the treadmill, okay? Let me know if you need anything.” She tightens her ponytails and heads down the hall.

  
I finish off my sandwich and wash the plate before heading to the couch. Late afternoon sunlight filters in through the large windows. I hold open my book from this morning, not truly reading the pages as I turn them.   
“Hey,” I look up from my book and nearly jump out of my skin, “It’s me, Peter,”  
“I know who you are!” I snap the book shut, “You just appeared in my apartment,”  
“I came in through your window, sorry,” He stands awkwardly off to the side. “I wasn’t sure if you knew,” I’m sick of everyone thinking I don’t know them. They don’t understand, none of them. “Your mom said it was okay if I come over.”  
“She’s in the gym,”   
“No, to hang out with you,” He unshoulders his backpack, dropping it by the media console.   
“Why?”  
“We’re friends,” He flops down next to me on the couch.   
“I don’t need a babysitter,”   
“I’m younger than you, and I’m pretty sure if Nat thought you needed someone to watch you this closely, she’d be doing it herself.” I say nothing to dispute his logic. “We could watch a movie,” He offers, clicking on the TV.  
“As long as it isn’t _Shutter Island_ ,” Peter’s head whips towards me, “It was a joke,” He nods and fakes a laugh. Everyone is acting like I am going to shatter at any moment, more than usual. Peter picks some slapstick comedy I have seen before, and I find myself drifting off.  
“So, you want to order pizza?” I blink open my eyes. We are in the rec room, but everything has been re-arranged and the space is smaller. Credits play on the small TV and fluorescent lights buzz overheard. I can hear the wheels of the medicine cart rolling through the halls. But Peter.   
“Why are you here?” I stand up, backing towards the wall. “You’re not supposed to be here,” I look around the room and it flickers, become decayed before going back to the original state. “He’ll hurt you, Peter, he is going to hurt you,” I think of what he could do to my friend, the shocks and medicine, a collar. Peter is too good. He isn’t like me.   
“I’m going to grab your mom, okay?” The room changes again, looking like my apartment before going back to the sterile space.   
“Wanda, you’re home and you’re safe,”  
“Peter, he is going to hurt Peter. The shocks, it isn’t, Peter is _real_.”   
“I know, he is right here. We’re at the apartment. Can you take some deep breaths for me? Four, seven, eight.” Nat is here, I am going to be okay if she is here. She is safe.   
I count out the breaths and the room begins to transform, becoming our apartment on the Upper Eastside.   
“There are those blues,” Natasha soothes.  
“This isn’t the rec room, Peter was never, he never hurt you,” I look behind Nat where my friends is standing, distraught. “I didn’t mean to,”  
“I’m going to order that pizza,” Peter speaks up.   
“You’re not going to leave?” I wouldn’t want to be around me.   
“No, of course not,” Peter picks up his cell phone and begins to dial, stepping into the kitchen to order. Concern flows off Natasha in waves as she helps me off the floor. The door to the apartment swings open and Yelena struts in.   
The confusion and trepidation that she had held when she first woke up is gone. She pushed right past the questions she must have had, and instead asked when we were getting out of there.   
That was last week. She had even gone in a mission since then, with Clint. It was originally supposed to be Nat and Steve. I was kind enough to mess up that part of Nat’s life too.  
“Everything okay?” She takes in the scene, and a blotchy faced Peter coming out of the kitchen.   
“We just ordered pizza,” Nat states, looking pointedly at her sister.   
“Good, I am starved.”

“So, did you ever eat people?” Peter asks through mouthfuls of pizza, “We learned at school that the Siege of Leningrad, they ate people,”  
“You know that was forty years before we were born, right?” Nat laughs.   
“I ate person once,”  
“Liar,”   
“Sorry, I mean I ate ou-,”   
“Yelena!” Natasha scolds, “They are kids and we’re at the dinner table,” She smirks my way, thrilled with her sister’s irritation.   
Peter and Yelena leave shortly after dinner. Peter to patrol, and Yelena to go on a date. Of course, she snagged a pair of shoes from Natasha’s closet first.   
“Do you want a cup of tea or anything?” Natasha calls over her shoulder.   
“No.”   
“Or maybe some strawberries? I think we have a carton in the fridge or if you want help,”  
“Stop treating me like this!” I feel tension ripple through my body as I expect a shock, but I continue to push through, “I’m not made of glass. I am an adult; I don’t need you!”   
“Yes, you do.” Her response is quiet and firm. “You are confused and scared, which is okay. But you need to accept the help that is offered,”  
“I don’t need help! No one is listening to me, no one understands. You send me to Sam, you send Peter over,”   
“I did not invite Peter over,”  
“I try to talk to you, and you don’t get! No matter what I say,”   
“I’m listening, and trying,”  
“Well you’re failing,” I snap. Natasha’s shoulders tighten but she quickly relaxes her stance. I stiffen, waiting to be punished. Instead, she hugs me. “Why won’t you yell at me?”   
“How would that help the situation?”   
“I don’t know,” I feel my shoulders droop.   
“It has been a long day, let’s get you in bed,” She helps me to my room and when I come out of the bathroom with my teeth brushed and faced wash, I see she has prepped my bed.   
The comforter has been folded down, and the throw pillows stacked neatly on my desk chair. There is a glass of water and bottle of Advil for if I wake in the night with pains. I sit down on the edge of my bed, exhausted. Nat helps me remove my leg and sock, gentle as can be.   
“I’m still me,”   
“I know,”  
“Then why don’t you call me it anymore?” I feel tears start to build up.  
“What?”  
“You haven’t called me Little Witch in weeks,” I bunch up the fabric in my fists, “It is what you have always called me, I’m your Little Witch. I still am, I’m still me, I’m here,”  
“Oh love, I didn’t know this was upsetting you,” She quietly pulls the fabric away, “I know how much your powers have been upsetting you, I thought reminding you of them wouldn’t help,”   
“That last time you said it was in that room, when you found me. I thought maybe it was,” I tug on my hands, “I’m not her anymore.”  
“You will always be my Little Witch,” She lies down beside me, “Even if you never used your powers again. That isn’t what makes you, you.”  
“They said it was.”   
“What?”  
“Ross said the Dr. Beck had to tap the source of my powers, to find a way to extract them, the root,” I can see them outside of the building, handing me over in an exchange, like I was cattle. “But he couldn’t. I am my powers.  
“They got it close, but not quite,” Natasha stares up at my ceiling, at the stars so carefully pasted more than a year ago. “You are not your powers, Wanda. Your powers are you.”  
“What is the difference?” Nat rolls onto her side.  
“I can feel it, when you use them. When your powers touch me,” She takes my hand in hers, running her finger along the lines of my palm, “They are warm and comforting. I can feel the love. I know your powers would never hurt me. I trust them implicitly.”  
“How can you? They were created by Hydra, they are dangerous,”  
“Because they are an extension of you.” 

I nearly sleep through the night. Only twice, I am woken by nightmares. Natasha sleeps in my room, quickly settling me down before things can spiral out of control. Both times, I am able to quickly see that we are home, not at that abandoned asylum.   
In the morning, as sunlight trickles in through the blinds, the smell of pancakes waft through the apartment. It is so ordinary, so comforting. If it weren’t for the tired ache and weakness in my bones, I would feel normal. Even my head, its clear. The thoughts are more linear than they have been in weeks. I pull on my sock and leg, locking it in. Tony had outfitted me with a smaller leg for my emaciated muscles, but now I can feel the prosthetic starting to get too tight. Hope flutters in my chest.   
Pancakes, bacon, and orange slices fill the kitchen island, along with a pitcher of ice coffee.   
“Hi Little Witch,” Natasha smiles over her shoulder, finishing the last of the pancakes.   
“Good morning,”  
“You slept well,” I nod, serving myself food. The coffee stares me down with surprising intimidation. “I do think we need to talk,” She sips from her own cup and begins to pour me a glass upon seeing I have not done so myself. “We are going to head up to the compound today, every day, for a while.”  
“Why?” I think of rounds of doctor’s appointments and pricking and prodding.   
“We need to work on you regaining control of your powers, and our gym isn’t the best place for you to do that.”   
“But no appointments?”  
“A physical in a few weeks, but other than that, no.”   
“Including sessions with Sam?”  
“You know that isn’t an option.” I look down at my breakfast.   
“And when are we going on vacation?”   
“That is another thing we should discuss; I am going to cancel.”  
“What? No,” Cooper and Lila have been texting me for the past week about how excited they are.   
“I’m just not sure you are ready. It is at a resort, so there will be other people. Maybe we can reschedule for a different trip,”  
“I can do it.”   
“I don’t want to put you in that position. We can go on a smaller trip, just you and I. If you want, Yelena can come. We could rent a cottage for the weekend,”  
“This isn’t fair,”  
“I know.”   
“I have a question, and I need you to be honest with me, please.” She waits expectantly, “Does the team still want me around? All of them?”  
“What kind of questions is that?”   
“You are answering a question with another question, you would call that deflection,” I point out, scared to meet her eyes.   
“Of course they still want you around. You are a part of our family. Beyond that, you’re the strongest of all of us. It would be foolish to not let you be on the team.”   
“What on the three months total I maybe have been fit to be in the field?”   
“We are going to the compound to help you work on your powers and regain control. If you want to rejoin us in the field, we will make it happen.” She runs her hands across the counter.   
“You have something else you want to add,”  
“The days for late testing for the AP exams are this week, I scheduled the tests to be safe, but if you don’t want to,”  
“I am taking the exams.” I cut her off.   
“I won’t be disappointed in you if you don’t. It would essentially be days of nonstop testing,”  
“And my attention span has been shot?”   
“Understandably so,”  
“I’m taking the tests. The school will want them,” I take a sip of my coffee, trying not to lose my breakfast over the thought of going away to college.   
“The school?”   
“I told you,” I look up, and realize I didn’t. I was going to tell her that night. “I committed to Harvard.”   
Natasha beams, a true smile. It isn’t fake or forced. And as she begins to congratulate me and mount on the praise, I can feel how different it is than the compliments she has been giving me over the past two and a half weeks. She kisses the top of my head and takes my hands in hers. Not as an act to ground me to the present or provide a lifeline, but of encouragement and love.   
“I am going to have Pepper issue a statement, to let the world know that you will be attending Harvard in the fall,”   
As she says the words, it dawns on me just how close that is. Currently mid-May, that only gives me a little more than three months left with Natasha. Before I am in a dorm, living with a stranger. One whom I could accidently kill with a single nightmare.   
“Are you okay?”   
“Fine, just, thinking about training today,” I lie. She sees right through it but does not push. It would be so easy for her to suss out the truth. But she rarely, if ever, uses her abilities on me. I wish I could say the same. It is how I found out about Yelena, and the glass ballet slippers on the stage. And Chantilly.   
We drive up to the compound in Nat’s Porsche. The drive is silent and as we get off the highway, we weave through the backroads towards the compound.   
“What do you want to work on first? Mental or physical?”   
“Neither.” I look down at my fingers. I can feel the power dancing just below the surface, ready to explode out at a moment’s notice. She waits for my real answer, “Physical,” I sigh. At least if I go insane from hearing people’s thoughts, I won’t hurt anyone in the process.   
“You will pick up on it again quickly, it will be like riding a bike.”  
“I never learned to ride a bike,” I rest against the window.   
“Well, this summer, we will have to fix that.”   
The gates to the compound swing open and we pull up to the front. I bite my cheeks. The thought of facing the entire team right now makes my stomach flip nearly as much as the thought of leaving Natasha.   
“Don’t worry, it is just Steve. He helped you with learning to control your powers before, we’ll do it again.” That was a lifetime ago. But not even three years.   
Just a few weeks after I arrived, we had the mission in Italy. If I had the control then that I did back in March, Clint wouldn’t have lost his hearing. Nat wouldn’t have gotten her throat slit. I wouldn’t have lost my leg. My powers, they can’t be all bad. I can still use them to protect people. And when I go away to school, that will be give four years before I become a full member of the team, full time. Until then, it will remain an after-school job of sorts.   
“Are you with me?”   
“Yes, sorry. Thinking,” I see Nat is waiting, the car shut off. Every day, I am feeling steadier than the day before. It is impossible to imagine how Steve and Natasha are going to arrange for me to practice control over the physical aspect of my powers when I can barely walk across the room, but doubting the pair is a poor bet.   
“Steve is already waiting for us in the gym,” She seems almost giddy. Whether it is to see her boyfriend, or for what she has planned, impossible to know. Likely both.   
A ping pong table is in the center of the gym, with two chairs on either side. Steve is stacking mats when we come in, but grins when he sees us.   
“Right on time,”  
“As if I’m ever late.” Nat brushes his shoulder.   
“You can’t control traffic,”  
“That’s what you think,” She kisses him lightly before pulling away. I’m shocked by the open affection she just displayed, and if he is as well, no indication is given. What their relationship entails is a mystery to everyone except them.   
“Okay, so have you ever played ping pong?” Steve asks, as we walk over to the table.   
“Yes,”  
“Perfect, also, you can’t use your hands. But you can use the paddle.” I frown at the felt covered wood.   
“Don’t worry, we won’t keep score. This is just a little test to see how you do. If it is too hard, we’re going to head to the bowling alley down the hall. Too easy, we’re going to play pool.” Natasha walks in step with me to the chair.   
The paddle flips unsteadily in the air as I try to control it. Steve also sits to make it fair, and lightly hits the ball my way. It takes three tries before I am able to make contact, and even then, it hits the net. My frustration begins to grow as something that should have been a piece of cake, is proving to be an insurmountable task.   
Then, as the ball is coming towards me, I realize I don’t have to use the paddle. The rule was no hands. The ball stops two inches from my face and I send it flying back towards Steve. It turns into a rousing game with Natasha heartily cheering me on. Just as we near the match point, tied, both of their phones ping at once. The game comes to a screeching halt, as the single note stretches into the cavernous space. Multiple texts and emails. Then their phones start to ring. Neither of them pick up, staring at their screens.   
“What is it? What happened?”  
“Ross is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked the chapter!!   
> Please let me know if you are still reading Kindred and Volition- particularly Volition as I am loving that story, but if no one is reading it I have very low motivation to update 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with the series, which is more than a year old now!! 
> 
> Stay healthy and safe!


	49. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, sorry it is late and short!! My dog was sick and I had to take care of her this weekend (she is much better now!!) 
> 
> We have some action coming soon, after this chapter!! So stay tuned :) 
> 
> As always, comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated!!

“Ross is dead,” I stare at Steve, unable to comprehend the words properly. That can’t be, its not possible. Nat is immediately calling someone on her phone, while Steve does the same. Both are talking, firing off questions, working in perfect harmony. I feel numb. I shouldn’t feel that. I should be feeling something. Anger, sadness, maybe relief.  
They are talking to me now. Or Natasha is. I want to go home, to curl up in my bed and hide away from the rest of the world. The reporters that will undoubtably crowd the street leading up to our building. Not crossing the property line of course, but across the street, watching like vultures.  
“Yelena will be back from Canada in the next few hours,”  
“What?” The odd sentence shakes me from my daze.  
“She was on a date and said she ended up in Toronto. We had to check to make sure,”  
“She didn’t do it?” Natasha nods. Yelena is reckless, impulsive. I know the feeling. If had the energy, or ability, I would have done it myself. I should have. It isn’t fair.  
“Okay, everyone is on their way. We have to assume this wasn’t one of us.”  
“Yelena is the only one who would do it,”  
“And I was here with you, I heard the insinuation, Steve,” She scolds. The super soldier rubs the back of his neck. Natasha bumps him as she goes to grab my crutches.  
If Ross is dead, does that mean Doctor Beck is too? Not a doctor. He isn’t a doctor. Beck. Just Beck. My previously broken fingers ache. They still don’t look quite right to me, still. Like I can see the small misalignment of the bones. The door slamming on them. But what Beck did, better than Ross. I would spend eternity in the hospital than in the prison. Cold metal floor. Hosed down with icy water. Always cold. So cold. Drugging me into a daze. How long was I there? I can feel the bruises on my ribs, long since faded.  
“Wanda,” I snap my head up, meeting Nat’s eyes.  
“He hurt me,”  
“I know,”  
“You don’t have to sit in on this meeting,”  
“Sure. Because it’s not like you are going to need to know everything that happened during the day-wee-time I was there,” I stumble over the timeframe. She crouches down in front of me resting her hands on my knees.  
“Honey,” The pain in her eyes is obvious.  
“I’m g-going.”

The walk from the gym to the conference room is painfully slow. Steve runs up ahead to prep and greet everyone. Tony left to pick up Yelena, according to Nat. She walks beside me like she isn’t irritated by the pace. She walks in clipped, perfectly timed steps most of the time. So, the idea that this crawl is fine with her, laughable.  
“I want to say again,”  
“I’m a part of this team, right?” I keep my eyes trained on my feet. Though I can imagine Chad scolding me for it.  
“Of course,”  
“Then at least let me do something to help,”  
To get to the conference room from the gym should take no more than five minutes, but it takes us nearly twenty. My legs feel like jelly as I collapse into one of the chairs, which goes flying out behind me. In my hurry to sit, I neglected to remember the wheels. Natasha catches it, and me. I feel my cheeks flame red.  
“Do you want a cup of tea?”  
“No.” The word is colder than I intended, “Thank you,” I tack on hastily. She takes a seat next to me, and I can already see the choice evolving into a fight with Steve and Clint. It was my mistake, not sitting next to the head of the table.  
Steve comes into the room, accompanied by Sam who was on his way up when the news dropped.  
“Hey guys,” He sits down across from me. Most likely, Yelena or Clint will sit on my other side. Everyone else is probably scared of me, likely so. I know I am. “How are you doing, Wanda?”  
“Fine,” I look down at my hands. The room begins to fill up over the next half hour, the conference table becoming more crowded and the room getting louder.  
“Clint’s two hours out,” Nat speaks up, “Says we should start without him,” She nods to Rhodey.  
“This morning, at ten o’clock, someone breached the maximum-security prison where Ross was being held. He was killed, along with three guards. The CCTV footage shorted out for fifteen minutes before going back online. Ross was dead when everything went back online,” He finishes explaining, “That’s all we have so far.”  
“So, we know it wasn’t suicide, and it wasn’t Blondie here,” Tony nods to Yelena, who flips him the bird.  
“I think we need to consider letting the feds handle this,” Rhodes adds.  
“Yes, because they handled it so wonderfully before,” Natasha rolls her eyes.  
“This isn’t an Avenger issue. Someone broke into a U.S. federal prison,” he continues.  
“And killed someone who has been making our lives a living hell for ten years,”  
“I say the person did us a favor then,” Tony argues.  
“Where is Bruce?” Sam asks.  
“He’s with his girlfriend, her dad just died.” Natasha’s voice drips with sarcasm and I see Steve tense up. Despite her sharp words, she rubs my shoulder gently. “We need to ask ourselves why the person or group who did this killed Ross. He must have known something and was trying to cut a deal. We already made sure the death sentence was off the table, which gave plenty of time for negotiations to receive comfort items.”  
“You think Ross would have given up his buddies for a TV?” Sam asks.  
“I think the man would have killed his own daughter if it meant pursuing her warped sense of patriotism.”  
“I agree with Nat on that, whoever broke in was clearly sophisticated and had the wherewithal to break into a maximum-security prison undetected. I don’t think, that in this situation, we can rule out Hydra.  
“Oh, come on Capsicle, let that go. You took them down with SHIELD years ago.”  
“What about Winter Solider?” Yelena speaks up. She receives a glare from the whole table. “Someone need to say it!”  
“I think we all need to take a beat. Wait and see what I hear from the Secretary. Vision is down there now representing us, and I have to get back. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. Until then, I agree with Pepper’s recommendation that everyone keeps a low profile for the next few days.” Rhodey looks pointedly at Yelena. Vision. I had thought about him in a long time. He is real too, just like the rest. “They are wondering if Wanda can come down and talk to them.”  
“No.” Natasha speaks for me, firm.  
“We need to know if she remembers anything from her time in,” Tony’s best friend trails off.  
“I do,” My heart hammers in my chest, pounding in my ears. This is worse than speaking in front of my class. Everyone is staring at me, the most powerful people in the world. My family, but I feel no less trepidation. Then Fury and Maria walk in, taking the attention off of me. I hope to shrink away into nothing as Fury waves for the discussion to continue.  
“We are not going to force her to talk about it right now, especially in front of everyone,” Natasha radiates strength, while all I feel is weak.  
“If I can do something to help, I want to,” My voice sounds as unsure as I feel.  
_I wish she’d speak up, not all of us have super hearing_ , Tony’s voice echoes in my head.  
“Do you remember him talking to anyone? Was he the only person to see you?” I feel everyone’s eyes on me as Rhodey asks the questions. Natasha and Sam are watching me with particularly keen interest.  
“He kept me drugged, so everything is messy,” The courage I had moments ago to look at them while speaking melts away under the heat of their stares. Nat squeezes my hand, but I pull away, tugging on my fingers. “There were others that brought food. But they would just drop it in the cell and my hands were bound,” I had to eat like a dog. “But he let me keep my leg,” I add, daring to look up. I regret it instantly upon seeing the pity in their faces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t, um,” My nail polish is chipping, little pink flakes on my leggings.  
“Love,”  
“Talking to anyone, right. He made a phone call once or got one. He was in charge, I think. But Ross was always in charge. He had a cattle prod. I wasn’t good then, like I was with Dr. Beck.” Someone makes a choking sound.  
“I think that’s enough.” Natasha commands the room, and I ignore the song playing in my head. It’s all real. Everything is real. “We will text you if anything else comes up, Rhodey.”  
“Understood,”  
“In fact, I would say this meeting is over,” Natasha stands up, effectively dismissing everyone. I ruined the meeting. I said too much. And not what they wanted to hear.  
“Wanda, I am having ice cream. You in?” Yelena asks, rising from the seat beside me. She takes my lack of response as a yes, grabbing the office chair from behind, and racing me down the hall.  
I grip the arms of the chair, and my breath is caught in my throat. She spins me around in place in the kitchen so much that when I finally stop, the ceiling keeps moving.  
“I get smile from you,” She teases as she takes a gallon of ice cream out of the fridge. “And toppings, whipped cream, da?”  
“Chocolate sauce?”  
“Of course. What am I, monster?” She helps me out of the office chair and up to the counter, given that my crutches were left in the conference room during our impromptu ride. Better than the last time she tried to help me at the Barton’s. Nat and Sam would point this out as progress. “Wanda, you okay?”  
“Fine.”  
“Is understandable if not,”  
“I’m fine,” I repeat.  
“I know cattle prods,” Yelena is quiet, and serious. A rare combination for her. “They hurt,” She swirls her ice cream with her spoon. “Your mom tell me you go to university in fall,”  
“Yes,”  
“I have plan, but need your help. Have to be secret.” I raise my eyebrows. “Good, you in. We go away for two days, without Tasha,”  
“Without Nat?”  
“Yes, can you?” The question isn’t condescending, but genuine.  
“I’ll be living without her in a few months. Good practice.” She nods and goes back to eating her ice cream, “Is that all I am going to get?”  
“Da. Leave rest to me.”  
I’m falling asleep at the counter when Nat comes in. She is locking her tablet and looking utterly exhausted.  
“Have you found the killer?”  
“No, but we will,” She hands me my crutches, and I realize with sinking shame that I wish I had my wheelchair. Yelena heads down to the gym where I suppose other members of the team have gone. I should be down there. More than anything, _Nat_ should be. This is his fault. All Ross’s fault.  
“It isn’t right,” I look over to Natasha as we walk into my bedroom, sitting down on the couch. My lips pinch petulantly, but I can’t bring myself to care. “It isn’t fair,” The knickknacks on my desk start to shake.  
“Take some deep breaths, Little Witch,”  
“No!” I close my eyes, trying to push down my powers.  
“I know how you’re feeling,” They flash open once more, and I can feel my powers get pushed down with the rise of anger, though not usually an inverse relationship. How could anyone understand what I am feeling right now? Any of them?  
“You know how I’m feeling?” I growl, “Really?”  
“I can understand that,”  
“You can’t, you’ve said it yourself.” I feel the anger beginning to grow, exploding out of my chest. Like all the negative feelings from the past three months are starting to bubble over, and I can’t stop, “You don’t feel like the rest of us,” My lip curls. And I hate myself.  
“Watch it,” Natasha warns, “This is not a healthy way to process any of this. We can talk to Sam,  
“I don’t want to talk to Sam! It isn’t fair! It should have been me!”  
“You don’t deserve to die,” She softens, misunderstanding my words.  
“No, it should have been me to kill him. It was my right,”  
“Your right?”  
“You got to kill Madame B,” I want to take the words back as soon as I said them, but it is too late. I rise from the couch, wracked with tremors of guilt, fury, and weakness, “You got to kill her, but I don’t even get to _want_ to kill Ross?”  
“I didn’t want to,”  
“Bullshit,” I snarl, “That woman tortured you, created you. How could you not want to kill her?”  
“I didn’t want to,” She looks behind her, towards the door, “I didn’t,”  
“And you promised never to lie to me.” My chest is heaving as I try to catch my breath. Natasha looks back towards the door once more, and then to me, her inner conflict playing out. Whether to yell at me or run.  
Instead, she sinks to the floor and begins to cry. She holds her head in her hands, and all I hear are her soft gasps. I’m unsure what to do, shocked to see her like this. It is perhaps the third or fourth time I have ever seen her shed a tear.  
“I’m sorry,”  
“I looked everywhere for you. I killed and maimed so many people, broke international laws. I did everything I could. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. But please know I tried. Nothing could keep me from finding you and bringing you home, ever.”   
“Mom,” I sit down beside her  
“I saw it, that night. The shoes coming towards you, you were able to get it to me. But I was too late. You were gone, and I failed.” She wipes her face roughly, rubbing it to be bright red. “I need some air,” She stands up and I grab her hand,  
“I remember something Ross said on the phone with someone,” I bite my cheeks, “He mentioned a guy named Georges Batroc.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed!! A new chapter of Volition will be out by Thursday! 
> 
> (Also, Wanda's comments will have ramifications, they are not going to be glossed over)


	50. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 50!! What?! It amazing that Kindred has come so far, let alone the whole series! 
> 
> I absolutely love this chapter and hope you all do as well! As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated :)

“We have to tell the team,” I speak, but the word don’t feel like they are coming out of my mouth. Like I am a puppet, a marionette. Someone is pulling on my strings, controlling my movements.   
Everyone is gathered around the dining table, eating pizza. Clint is here. When did he get here? He wasn’t at the meeting.  
“Tash, you okay?”   
“I’m fine.” I sit down in my seat, staring blankly at the slice placed in front of me. Wanda begins to talk to the team, and I do my best to listen. Speaking in front of them all is hard for her. I need to be encouraging. But dread begins to build up in the pit of my stomach.  
_You have been gone for too long, Little Spider_.   
A hand rests on my thigh.   
I’m up from my seat in an instant, pinning the arm behind the person’s back, pressing their face against the table. My breath comes in uneven gasps as I try to work out the situation.   
“Nat, you’re okay, you’re safe. We’re on the compound,” I blink, trying to connect the words. “It’s me, Steve. No one is trying to hurt you,” Steve. I look down at my hands, forcing him against the table. I spring back, burning hot with embarrassment. Everyone is staring at me. Pity, confusion.   
“Natasha,” Clint stands up from his seat.   
I run. The muggy May air fills my lungs as her words continue to echo through my head.   
_You always were my favorite._  
My feet sink into the muddy banks of the lake.   
_Your loyalty was never required, only your compliance._   
The lake. Control. I need control. She doesn’t own me. I don’t belong to her. I killed her. I didn’t want to.   
The icy water is shocking to my system, causing all my muscles tense. I dive beneath the surface.  
_You were my favorite weapon. I trained you. I raised you_.  
I swim deeper, into the shadows of the water. The shadows, where I was made. Where I belong. No. Wrong. I have no place in this world.

I can feel her cane striking the back of my knees. Across my cheek. My knuckles. Gentle warnings. The letter opener slicing my arms when I disobeyed in class. These were love taps in the eyes of Madame B. She wanted me to succeed. To be the greatest the world would never see. To exist in the gutters and whispers of dark alleys. To occupy the nightmares and fantasies of men around the world.   
She taught me to speak dozens of languages, kill in a hundred different ways. Pleasure someone in every way they could desire. Not to live, but to exist. And I killed her. A bullet sunk in her skull. Lying lifeless on the floor as the academy goes up in flames, growing higher and higher, engulfing the prisonous school, and me. I force out the visual. I don’t want to see her. I didn’t want to kill her.   
My body begins to scream for air. My ears pop as I go deeper. Just a few more feet, a few more minutes. I’m in charge of my body, no one else. I don’t belong to her. I am my own person.   
I feel my foot snag. I open my eyes and turn around, spying my ankle wrapped in some kind of rope. I reach to untangle my foot, but my movements are dull and feeble, I need air. I’ve been under for longer than I thought, longer than I intended. This is beyond proving my point of bodily autonomy.  
Black starts to dot my vision. I tug harder, trying to break what I now see is a chain. Harder. I pull harder. The immense pressure on my chest continues to grow. I fight the urge to try and breath. The chain is covered in slick algae. My hands slip and my mouth opens.

Madame B is seated on the edge of a wrought iron stool, pressed close to a wood workbench. She sings quietly into the small room, a Russian lullaby.   
“ _Tili Tili Bom, close your eyes quickly_ ,”   
A single spotlight is overhead, casting shadows around the room. The light flickers, but rather than the area growing dark, it fills momentarily with light.   
“ _Someone’s walking by the window and knocking at the door_ ,”   
The surrounding walls are covered with floor to ceiling shelves. Each spot is filled with a porcelain doll. The facial features are painted perfectly, hauntingly realistic with glass eyes. Each doll is broken in some way. Some are missing arms or legs. Another has the side of her head bashed in. There are quite a few dolls whose heads sit entirely in their laps. The flickering stops, bringing the focus back to Madame B who continues to sing as she toils away.   
She holds a paintbrush in her hands. Two dolls sit on the scratched tabletop. One with flaxen hair and sharp blue eyes. She is off to the side, with a stitch over her heart.   
In front of her is a glass doll with fiery hair. She polishes away the scratches that mar the surface of the fragile toy. Except one, a crack on the lower left side of her abdomen.   
“ _Tili Tili Bom, the night will muffle everything_ ,”   
Clothes are carefully sewn onto the doll. A grey sweater. Jeans. She paints dots of red nail polish onto the doll’s feet, and then places her off to the side, reaching under the bench to pull out a bowl. Droplets of water splashes onto the ground.   
“ _He is sneaking up to you, now he almost got you,”_   
She picks up the figurine, caressing her hair. She adjusts the sweater, so it is just so, and rolls up the jeans at the ankle. A small smile plays at her lips as she begins to sing once more.   
“ _Hear his steps, he’s already close_ ,”   
She dunks the doll into the bowl of water, holding it under.  
“ _Tili Tili Bom_.”

* * *

“Come on,” I feel a tight pressure on my chest, “Come on, Nat,” I cough and feel myself being rolled to the side, water exiting my lung.   
“We need to get her to the medical wing,”  
“She wont like that,” I begin to choke, like I am drowning once more. Immediately, I am turned on my side and cough up water. Someone is rubbing my back. I scramble away, only to begin to vomit as well.  
“Nat,”  
“Don’t touch me,” I warn, crouched like a dog. I bunch the grass into my fists. My stomach warns that it may not be done expelling the lake. A moment later, the warning proves to be true, and I stand up, feeling like I just got off a boat.   
“We should get you to the medical wing,” Steve presses. I wipe my mouth.   
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I turn to see Clint, having not even realized his presence until now. Some spy I am. “Natasha, who the hell goes swimming in their clothes? Or dives to the bottom of a lake! You were down there for more than ten minutes; you are lucky to be alive. Do you understand? You could have died,” I stare blankly at him, his words not quite holding any weight. My breaths are unsteady, shuttering. “You with me?” I nod, “Verbal confirmation, Tash,”   
“Here,” I blink slowly. I killed her. “I didn’t want to,”  
“I know you didn’t want to drown, even if you did,” He fiddles with his hearing aid.   
“I didn’t want to kill her,”   
“What? Who?” Steve looks around, eying the lake.   
“Tash,”   
“I didn’t want to,” I dig my nails into my palms. A hand rests on my shoulders and I flinch, jumping away. The hairs on my arms stick up straight.   
“I’m sorry, I won’t touch you. Can you focus on me though?”   
“I killed her,” I begin to cough and can feel the cracks in my ribs from CPR.   
“Nat, we can go inside, dry off. Clint can make some tea,”   
“She thinks I’m a monster, I didn’t think, that was years ago. Her face when she saw and her words,” I shiver in my wet clothes. Steve takes off his dry sweatshirt and holds it out to me. He had the sensibility to strip before diving in the water.   
I hadn’t even realized I accepted the article of clothing until I am pulling it over my head. It is warm from his body heat, always like a furnace.   
“Whatever happened, I’m sure it was a misunderstanding. Can you please come inside?”   
_I trained you. I raised you_. I exist only in her image. I belong to her. Belonged.   
“I promise I didn’t want to. I loved her, I think,”   
“That wasn’t love, Nat. That was devotion. There’s a difference.” Clint walks closer.   
“I didn’t want to,”   
“I know, you saved me.” My minds whirs, “Okay, stop with that story,” I hadn’t even realized my lips were moving. “My Russian may be a little rusty, but I’d recognize that anywhere,” The little red notebook flashes in my head. The academy going up in flames.   
“The scorpion,”   
“I understand that you are upset, but we need to get your checked out by medical. Steve’s gone; it is just us.” He left. I don’t blame him. The image of Madame’s body lying in the classroom plays on repeat in my mind. When I had the gun trained on Clint, and he said it was okay. He forgave me. I had to choose between Madame B and Clint. The person who made me and the one who saved me.   
Stockholm syndrome. I heard the whispers. The doubt so many had when looking at me. The doubt even Fury had about my ability to take down the Red Room. I had told him I had never hated anyone more.   
_Your handlers, they brainwashed you, conditioned you_.  
My stubbornness almost killed Clint.  
“Natasha,” He sighs. “I love you, you know that, right? And I’m not mad at you for what happened in there. In fact, I am still pretty Goddamn proud of you, even all these years later.” I can’t meet his eyes. “Please, at least come inside,” I nod stiffly. “You know that whatever the hell that was, it was stupid and reckless, right?”   
“Mhm,” I feel him herding me like a sheepdog. I’m too tired to care.   
“We are going to go to your room and change you into some dry clothes. Maybe a hot shower?”   
“Everyone,”   
“Steve and I ran after you, told everyone else to stay back. Weren’t expecting that,”   
“I needed,” I am cut off by coughing and stager forward, reaching for something to grab onto.   
“Okay, you’re okay,” I stretch out the hem of his t-shirt. “It’s okay,”   
“Control,” I sputter, pushing off and staggering through the doorway.  
“What happen?” I feel my sister’s presence instantly.   
“She went swimming,” Clint tries to direct me towards me bedroom, or the medical wing. Either way there will be a bed.   
“I got, I got,”   
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”   
“Wanda,” I recognize her panicked whisper.   
“We take care of you, then your girl,” I recoil as her arm wraps around me. “Is okay,”

* * *

I have a vague recollection of a hot shower and dry clothes before falling asleep. My limbs ache and my insides burn as I pull myself out of bed. Night has fallen on the compound, and a quick glance at the clock confirms that it is two o’clock in the morning. With any luck, everyone will be asleep.  
I crack open the door connecting my room and Wanda’s. She is rolling around, unrested. Though I can’t imagine my efforts of comfort would be welcomed right now. I slip out into the hall and into the gym.   
The longer I throw, the looser my limbs become. The movement is repetitive and grounding, comforting. Each knife lands perfectly in the center of the target.   
“I prefer the gun range myself,”   
“Sir,” I wipe my brow and finish collecting my weapons, putting them in their sleeve.   
“Let’s take a walk,” he gestures towards the hall.   
I follow him out of the gym and eventually outside. The sun is threatening to lift the veil of night.   
We end up back at the lake and begin to stroll the perimeter. Rather than starting to race, as Steve and I would, Fury keeps the slow pace, his hands clasped behind his back.  
I itch to move faster but remain at his side, feeling as though this is some kind of test. The early morning air is fresh and clean, daffodils poke up from the ground just a few feet away.   
“Did you know they told me to kill you?”   
“Sir?”  
“When Barton showed up at headquarters with you in tow. The council immediately decided that I needed to execute you and fire him.”   
“Thank you for not following through,” He snorts.   
“I never expected you to be so young, you were just a kid.”   
“Twenty-one,”  
“A kid,” Fury clears his throat. “I staked my whole career on you,”   
“You did?” I nearly trip over a root in my distraction. Shock. It had always been my impression that he had begrudgingly accepted me into the fold, perhaps as a favor to Coulson and Clint.  
“And I would do it again in a heartbeat. You managed to break this old spy’s heart quite a few times, Natasha.”  
“I don’t understand, I’m sorry,” Fury’s mouth tightens and I fear I have upset him, missing the point.   
“Early on,” he explains, “You were so young, Natasha.” He unclasps his hands, “Every time I had to send you on one of those fucking missions,”   
“Sir?”  
“Those Goddamn honeypots. It was a stipulation from SHIELD, for keeping you alive. I am sorry.”   
“I have never blamed you, Nick.”   
“I know,” He takes a deep breath, “You’re probably wondering why I dragged you out here at the crack of dawn,”   
“A little,” I admit.   
“You are very good at what you do and have overcome a lot.” I warm at the unexpected praise. “I know that killing her was one of the hardest things you have ever done. And I know that it doesn’t get any easier, thinking about it.” We have nearly walked half the lake at this point, and the sun is just about visible, “I am trying to say I am proud of you, Romanoff and am happy I get to be a part of your life.”   
“Oh, thank you, sir.” I blink, at a loss for words.  
“Yes, well. We should get back. Before Barton starts a search party.”   
I walk instep beside him on the way back to the main building. The morning dew is beginning to dry and birds are starting to sing.   
“And you have a mission with Yelena, you leave after breakfast,”   
Fury is one of the only people on the planet who can continue to surprise me.   
In the kitchen, the room has begun to fill with the rest of the Avengers, most of whom are early birds. Save for Yelena, who is slumped over a giant mug of coffee with her hair piled atop her head.   
“Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,” I quote Franklin to her.   
“Lucky for me, I am not a man,” She grumbles, barely lifting her head.   
“Hey Nat,” Steve stops from cooking his French toast.   
“Hi,” I pour myself a cup of coffee, and am about to ask Fury if he wants one, only for him to be gone.   
“Natasha!” I sigh.   
“Good morning, Clint, coffee?”  
“Are you just going to act like yesterday didn’t happen?”  
“That was the plan,” I run my finger across the rim of my mug. Sam, Maria, and Steve have all turned their attention towards the two of us, even Yelena has perked up.   
“But,”  
“A chain got wrapped around my ankle when I went swimming. It was a freak accident,”   
“Why were,”  
“Barton,” Steve’s authoritative voice warns, stunning the archer. I turn to see why. Wanda is walking into the kitchen, her hair loose and damp. I stand in limbo, unsure what to do. If she wants me anywhere near her.   
“We have cereal or French toast,” Sam offers, holding up a box of Cheerios. She is frozen, her eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights. She avoids Clint, to the point of going the long way to the fridge to avoid passing the archer. I shoot him a glare, and he doesn’t meet my eyes.   
Breakfast is an uncomfortable affair, with only Steve making a few efforts towards starting a conversation, all of which fail miserably. I end up alone with him after, finishing up the dishes, standing side by side at the sink.  
“Well?”  
“Well what?” He slings the dish towel over his shoulder.   
“You’re not going to pressure me to talk about it? To explain what I was doing in the water? Tell me it was doing the right thing all those years ago?”  
“I’m here to listen when you’re ready, but I’m not going to force you before then.” I rest my head on his shoulder, he tangles his hand in mine. “I’m here, okay? I’m always here,” I nod and pull away.   
“I should tell Wanda I’m leaving.”   
“I’ve got this, go,”  
Wanda sits in her bedroom, experimenting with her powers. A house of cards has begun to form on her desk. It is nothing compared to what she has done before, she once made the Eiffel Tower, but it is progress.   
“I’m leaving,” I speak up as she places the last card on the small house. It instantly falls, littering the floor with red and white.   
“You’re leaving?”  
“Just for a day or two, I have a mission.”   
“I’m sorry for yesterday, for what I said.”  
“I know.”   
“But you’re still made at me,” She bites her lower lip.   
“Disappointed, not mad. I didn’t know you still saw me that way.” I am yet to venture more than a few feet into the room, and this all feels stilted, formal.   
“What do you mean?”   
“Like what they made me to be.”   
“Mom,”  
“You can stay with Steve if you want, or head home. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I hurry out of the room and grab my go-bag before sprinting to the tarmac. Yelena is already waiting at the quinjet, filing her nails.   
“Finally,”  
“I’m five minutes early,”   
“I was ten,” She steps out of the way to allow me into the jet first. I take my seat in the pilot’s chair, admiring the controls.   
“You are better, last night,” Yelena frowns.   
“I threw knives and talked to Fury.”   
“Chicken soup for Tasha’s soul,” She crisscrosses her legs, curling up in the copilot’s seat, “You say things last night,”  
“I’m sorry, I breathed in a lot of lake water. Oxygen deprivation,”   
“You saved my life too, Tasha. Not just Clint. She was bad too you, more than you know,” Yelena takes on a grave tone, and when I look over, her eyes are trained on the clouds.   
“I know,”  
“No, you don’t!” Yelena barks. She settle back into her seat, “I’m sorry, but you have no idea.”   
“Okay,” I concede, not wanting to upset her any further.   
“You give me agreement like pacifier,” She jokes, her heart not truly in it, “The world, and you, are better off.”   
“I know, it doesn’t make it any easier,”  
“You know, I start therapy.” A day of endless surprises, though I don’t let it register on my face. Instead, I just raise my eyebrows in causal interest. “Da, few weeks ago. Maria set it up. I have trouble, missing ten years. Wake up ten years older, look the same and feel the same, but not. I know I not say much, but is hard adjustment.”  
“Yelena,”  
“No shame in getting help,”   
“If you feel any resentment towards me, I under,”  
“Oh, shut up,” Yelena unfurls herself from the seat, “My turn at controls, you fly like gravity doesn’t exist.”   
I oblige, letting Yelena fly the jet. She chats about the newest Broadway shows, and how she snuck off to see _Wicked_ recently.   
We land in Japan, and I am slightly disappointed that this is a covert mission and not one more extravagant-like a party- so Yelena and I could spend some time together. Instead, we both wear our suits. Yelena’s blonde hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail that swishes as she walks.   
The Tokyo apartment building we landed on is one of the tallest in the city. I prepare our grappling gear, and I Yelena’s excitement is palpable, her love for heights is near impossible to contain.   
“Are you ready?”   
“Yes,”  
“So you know the plan?”  
“Two minutes to hack the system after you crack safe. Is child’s play,” She finishes swiping through her tablet, “Okay, alarms off. We go,”   
We jump down the side of the building, scaling the sleek walls with barely any foot holes. Yelena grins at me as we land on the balcony. I roll my eyes and place a small device to give off an EMP, disengaging the failsafe electric alarms.   
The apartment is modern is sharp, with chrome and platform furniture. And Yelena is not beside me. I turn around to see her taking off her shoes at the entrance.   
“You cannot be serious,”   
“Is bad manners, Tasha,”   
“What on earth are those?” I gesture to her socks, “Those are not the ones that came with the suit,”  
“Wanda gave me these,” She holds up her foot, the side of the sock reads _Carpe the Fuck out of this Diem_. “Is fun, da? She saw hellraiser and give me more.” I take a calming breath and nod. “I get you a pair,”  
“I really don’t need,”  
“I already know perfect ones,” She joins me outside the master bedroom closet. I eye the designer duds hanging nearby, including a vintage red Chanel gown.   
“Red isn’t my color anyway,” I push a stray lock of hair out of my face.   
“I have plans for after this, I made us appointment,” I can only imagine what that means. Ignoring her, I head over to the half of the closet filled with suits and watches, opening one of the cases. Inside is a fake watch, just as the report described. I lift up the watch and its holder, working out the code combinations in my head based on information from the profile and the numbers most worn down. I have three tries. I get it on my first.   
“We have two minutes before he gets a phone call confirming that he has accessed the safe,” I warn her as she steps into the computer room. She waves me off, as if insulted. “Thirty seconds I warn,” as I watch the clock tick down.   
“Oh, I’m done. He into weird stuff. Did photo shoot with dog where he dressed as pet and dog like him, I need print to show Clint,”  
“Just take a picture,”  
“But Tasha,”  
“Fifteen seconds Yelena!”   
“Fine,” She sighs dramatically, leaving the room with her tablet. She pulls on her shoes as we jump out the door, climbing up the side of the building. Our jet takes off just as the alarm sounds.  
Yelena lands the plane one a nearby building of equal height and pulls clothes out of her bag for the both of us, along with wigs. For me, a brunette wig with a red dress,   
“Tonight, red is your color,” She grins, fixing her own matching hair, “And we look like sisters,” She pulls off the socks, carefully folding them and placing them into an interior pocket of her go-bag.   
“What do you have planned? Do I need to be worried?  
“Nothing illegal, widow’s honor,” She crosses her heart, accompanied by an impish grin. We go down to the first floor and Yelena tugs me along.   
Unlike how I spent much of my later years training in Western Europe, Yelena was in Japan and Tokyo, mastering different types of technologies. Her Japanese is even better than mine, despite the fact that I consider myself fluent.   
“Okay, here,” She tugs me into a nearby bar, speaking rapidly to the girl t the front.   
“Is this a karaoke bar?”   
“Da!” She is beaming. We are led into a semi-private room with a small stage and a handful of tables.   
“Why?”  
“We need some fun,” She orders us a few rounds of tequila followed by cocktails, “Is my turn!” She exclaims, “I pick the perfect song,”   
Her leap onto the stage is that of a ballerina, though I would never tell her so, as she completely bypasses the stage. There is no one quite so wonderful at playing a vapid American college girl as Yelena. She picks up the mic and winks at me,   
“I’m Elena, and this is for my sister, Noelle,” She gushes, “This song is practically our anthem,”   
I am mortified as Yelena belts out “Black Widow Baby” covering both parts. She doesn’t even need to look at the lyrics. Her showmanship is unmatched, and I fall into a fit of laughter as dances off the stage, grabbing a nearby businessman by his tie before pushing him back into his seat.   
“You are terrible,” I gasp, taking a sip of my drink.   
“Terrible? I am icon, Iggy wish she were me,” She downs her vodka on the rocks, kicking up her heels on a nearby chair, “You’re turn, better pick good song. How you going to follow that? Like going on stage after Beyonce.”   
“Yelena, I’m not,”  
“Noelle,” the man by the computer waves me over as a man finishes his cover of “Thriller”.   
I scroll through the catalog of songs, knowing it will be impossible to escape without Yelena catching me. I think of hacking the fire alarm, but my time is quickly running out as the man’s set ends. I click my song and am ushered on stage. The lights dim and I feel everyone’s attention on me.   
“ _You don't own me, I'm not just one of your many toys_ ,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I hate including song lyrics in chapters and more than one or two swears, but it all seemed to work here so I went with it!! This chapter was so much fun to write and I hope you all enjoyed trying to pick apart my out of context spoilers leading up to it. Have an amazing first week of March!!


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